


Free Fall

by existinnon



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Conspiracy, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, Investigative photojournalism, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Mystery, Post-Canon, Psychological Drama, Romance, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/existinnon/pseuds/existinnon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akihito investigates a cover-up conspiracy after befriending an orphan. Asami's nemesis comes back to haunt him. And a mistake sets both their lives into free fall. Stumbling and falling in the face of obstacles, will Asami and Akihito find each other before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Premonition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 2,651  
> Disclaimer: All VF characters belong to Yamane Ayano-sensei. Some OCs are mine.
> 
> A/N: First fic. Self-beta. Story takes place about two months after Escape of Love. I don't want to deal with the whole Sudoh fiasco. Nope. Not yet anyways.

A sudden buzzing noise jolted the lone sleeping figure awake, disturbing the silence. The source of the noise vibrated with increasing intensity, demanding its owner's attention. A long, slender arm reluctantly reached out for the phone, its owner still half asleep, and a soft, but slightly raspy voice answered.

"Takaba speaking," Akihito said groggily, still sluggish from sleep. Ignoring the call was appealing, especially after his rigorous session with Asami last night, but he really needed to get back into work, or he'd feel like a good-for-nothing sloth. 

"Ah Takaba-san, I hope I didn't intrude on your time."

Recognizing the voice, Akihito quickly cleared his throat to sound more presentable. "No, not at all. Kohei-san, do you need me for something?" 

"Takaba-san, I need your help for a last minute assignment today. The main photographer suddenly called and canceled, and my other photographers are unavailable at the moment, so I'm in a bit of a bind right now. Do you think you can lend me a hand?"

Akihito rubbed his weary eyes and sat up. He did plan to return to the penthouse after the event to sleep some more and nurse his aching back, but refusing a job offer would have been short-sighted. He hadn’t been getting that many photography gig offers, and the paycheck from his most recent job wouldn’t be available for another two weeks. He mentally sighed. 

"Oh...I'm covering an event between morning and noon, but I'll be available for the evening if that's ok."

"Perfect!" the other man said with obvious relief in his voice. "It's a simple interview, so you don't have to worry about it too much. The journalist in charge is new, but he has potential, and I believe he's around your age. The interview is scheduled for eight in the evening. Will that be all right?"

"Sure. I'll drop by the office around seven before that. I'll see you later then." 

"Thank you, Takaba-san. I won't forget this favor." Kohei hung up on a cheery note, and Akihito couldn't help but smile because of the man's enthusiasm. The interview must be important enough for the man to ask him so desperately.

Kohei was the chief editor of a small magazine Akihito had been freelancing for about two months now. His main editor referred him to the magazine after Momohara Ai's rabid fans started camping outside of their newspaper's building, so he gladly took the offer. Since then, he'd steered clear of any major criminal activity leads in favor of normal photography work. The magazine catered to young adults and middle-aged women, so most of the jobs were special events, celebrity interviews, arts and crafts competitions, culinary showcases, and scenic photos. 

Besides, Kohei was a pleasant boss to work for. The man had always addressed him politely and respectfully, rarely pressuring him into work, or treating him like an incompetent newcomer. The change of pace didn't bother him either, for steady work was better than no work. Investigative journalism was an unstable and risky field after all. As much as he would enjoy the occasional thrill of a stakeout, the work itself didn't bring enough income to put food on the table. And hell would freeze over the day he asked Asami for money. It was one thing to feel like the man's live-in maid and bed partner, but another to become the bastard's mistress. 

While he was held captive by Fei Long in Hong Kong, Asami took the liberty of moving all his possessions from his old apartment to this luxurious penthouse. The bastard even locked up his cameras as collateral, but despite his initial resistance, things just somehow tended to fall into Asami's lap. He could remember the smug look the bastard gave him when he asked if he could stay at the penthouse until he could find his own place. It was the look of _'Why do you even bother resisting, Akihito?'_ Surprisingly enough, living with Asami didn't turn out as bad as he had thought. They settled into a strange married life routine, but his role in it remained uncertain. Asami never openly admitted whether they were lovers or something obscured, and he didn’t press for an answer either. 

Akihito shuddered at the word lover and quickly brushed the thought off. Checking the time on his phone, he sighed deeply and got out of bed to make the short trek to the bathroom. The pain radiating in his lower back became more obvious with every step. Ironically, it was the only evidence of Asami ever being in the penthouse anymore, despite the place belonging to Asami. The man was like a ghost or phantom, only showing up in the night to claim his ass, then vanishing by morning. 

Momentarily distracted by the thoughts of Asami, he stepped into the shower and hissed when the initial burst of cold water assaulted his warm skin. He groaned, cursing himself for always thinking of the older man at the start of everyday, like a trained pet that only thought of its master. Though after realizing he had just compared himself to a pet, he shook his head in self-disbelief. This habit needed to stop, he had told himself that because he refused to submit to anyone, let alone become a person's pet, but it was more difficult than he had thought. 

With palms flat against the tile wall, Akihito braced himself until the water adjusted to a comfortable temperature, letting the stream melt away the tension in his muscles. The warmth was invigorating as it eased the ache in his body, and he relaxed. 

By the time Akihito stepped out of the shower, it was past 7 am. He wandered back into the master bedroom to gather the clothes that scattered all over the room from yesterday's activities. But his gaze reluctantly drifted to the empty bed, particularly to Asami's side of the bed. The room was eerily quiet, and the stillness equally suffocating. Droplets of water fell from the tips of his blond bangs from underneath the cotton towel. He stood immobile like that for a few minutes more, absorbing the silence. 

Normally, Asami would be home between 3 am and noon, but he had been waking up early recently, and the man was still nowhere to be seen. Two weeks went by with the same pattern. His daytime jobs and Asami's odd work hours made it impossible for them to meet, except maybe in the late hours. By the time Asami got home, however, he was already fast asleep, exhausted and spent from the day's work. 

Though that didn't deter the perverted bastard from pounding Akihito's ass into the mattress with the fervor of a hungry beast every night. The bastard even made it a point that resistance was futile anyway. As usual, his memories of any such sexual activity was usually a blur, a haze of brutal teasing, uninhibited moaning--mostly his, and multiple bouts of mind-blowing orgasms, that never failed to send him into the edge of unconsciousness. 

However, despite his mind being incoherent the majority of the time, he didn't miss the recent change in Asami's behavior. Asami's unease and tension seeped into his own consciousness. Uncertain why Asami was more restless and more possessive than usual, he had intended to ask the older man, but the opportune moment never came. The man's tongue was constantly attacking his mouth, blocking out his protests, and it didn't take long before he would give in to the pleasure. Deciding he would ask Asami another time, he had waited this long and without results. He even considered threatening Asami into talking, but knew that would be too much to ask. Convincing the country to abolish monarchy would be easier than asking Asami to relinquish his power and dominance. The bastard.

Finally breaking out of his reverie, Akihito frowned at the idea that perhaps he was lonely, and a part of him missed the older man, his scent, his warmth, and even his infuriating smirk. But his pride wouldn't allow him to admit that to Asami, the secret longing that continued to plague his thoughts. 

He strolled into his own bedroom, dropped off the used clothes in a hamper, and grabbed a random pair of jeans, t-shirt, and jacket, then quickly changed into them. He grabbed the camera bag on his table and checked the equipment inside for the last time. Once done, he quickly made his way to leave the penthouse, but not before turning around to take one last look. Silence. Like always. He shrugged and closed the door. Upon reaching the elevator, the cell phone vibrated in his jeans' pocket, and he immediately recognized the familiar ringtone. 

"What?" he said with indifference, though he was semi-happy to get the call, and his heart was beating a little faster than normal, but the bastard didn't need to know that.

"What are you doing?" Asami said with a seemingly impassive tone. 

"What do you mean? You should know," Akihito paused before adding his usual trademark sarcasm, "In fact, I'm pretty sure you have cameras around the house watching my every move, you pervert."

"Behave Akihito and don't stay out late. Come home before nine tonight."

"What? Why would I do that? And don't tell me what to do after last night. Thanks to you, I have to deal with a sore back all day. Also, I have something coming up for the evening, so I don't have time to play your games."

"You sound irritated. Is something bothering you?"

"Let me see. It's definitely not because of the lack of sleep, back pain, and the sore ass, so you tell me," he quipped, voice laced with sarcasm.

There was a long pause, as though Asami was really considering his condition. 

"Akihito," Asami drawled, "are you upset because you haven't seen me around? Do you miss me that much?"

Surprised by Asami's sharp instinct, Akihito blushed, except Asami wasn't there to see him, so he lied, "Wh-What? Hah! You must be joking. I'm a busy person, so stop acting like I'm your needy mistress or something." 

He hung up before Asami could say anymore of his condescending comments, although he instantly regretted using the word mistress. The bastard would use that to tease him later for sure. He groaned out loud. How their exchanges seemed like the banter of a married couple was beyond him. But then again, their relationship was warped from the beginning. His partner just happened to be Tokyo's notorious crime boss, or at least that was what he thought Asami was. 

\------------------------------

In the office of Sion Group's main building, Asami sat staring at the phone in his hand with his usual indifference, though his eyebrows were raised at the mistress comment. The boy had the nerve to hang up on him, but he wasn't angry at being slighted, just amused at how cute Akihito was acting. Akihito must have been worried about him, but he must put a hold on that thought. He would make it up to the brat later. An urgent matter needed to be dealt with before he could deal with one of Akihito's whims. 

"Asami-sama, given the situation, Matsuda-gumi has been strangely quiet about their ex-boss's imminent release from prison. I've advised the undercover members to be on high alert. As for Takaba, should I add bodyguards instead of just the private investigator?" Asami's competent secretary, Kirishima, said when his boss was seemingly distracted.

"No, it'll just piss him off. I don't want to give him an excuse to investigate. That's another headache I don't want to deal with," Asami said calmly. "Keep an eye on Izumi-gumi's former allies. I don't want them to do something rash before I could figure out Takamura's game. Don't underestimate our enemy."

The secretary bowed in agreement, "I understand, sir." 

"Put all the important paperwork I need to look over on my desk in one hour. Cancel the rest of my meetings and don't disturb me for the rest of the day."

"Yes, sir." Kirishima bowed again before exiting the office to carry out his boss' order. 

Once his secretary was gone, Asami stood up, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window behind his desk. Looking down at the bustling streets and watching as cars and people went about their daily morning routine, he could not help but feel restless, more than he wanted to be. Everything was remarkably and deceptively calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the underworld. 

In his line of work, death could come abruptly, and everything built over a period of many years could easily crumble in a day. It was his reality, harsh and bleak as it was. He couldn't afford to relax or even show weakness, especially when Akihito was already a part of his life.

The threat that had caused a ruckus in the underworld recently came in the form of a man named Takamura Michio, the former leader of Matsuda-gumi, who was about to be released from prison, in spite of his life sentence. An absurd anomaly beyond his expectation. But Asami knew only Takamura would be able to pull it off. In wake of the news, Tokyo's smaller crime organizations rushed to break from weak long-time alliances in favor of unstable new ones, hoping to come out alive on the victor's side. Most of the underworld's elites knew about Asami's feud with Takamura, and it was wiser to stay out of the crossfire once the situation erupted out of control. 

_'That damn sly fox.'_

Seven years ago, when Matsuda-gumi fought Izumi-gumi for control of their overlapping territories, Takamura was still the group's 4th lieutenant and war architect. Opting for a quicker resolution, Takamura incited his group to war even before truce talks with Izumi-gumi were concluded. The turn of events turned tragic when his wife died from a stray bullet after getting caught in a gang scuffle. But Takamura believed she was deliberately targeted by Izumi-gumi because of him, suggesting her murder was premeditated. As a result, what should have been a typical turf conflict became a drawn-out personal grudge war between Takamura and the entire Izumi clan. 

Takamura had never forgotten her death after the two clans declared a truce. In pursuit of revenge, he manipulated both allies and loyal supporters and took over Matsuda-gumi. Often practicing underhanded and unorthodox methods to ruthlessly stomp out his opponents.

And two years later, he shot rival Izumi-gumi's leader at point-blank straight through the head. What made it so remarkable was that he did it effortlessly with only as few as five men. The cold-blooded public execution of another high-profile clan leader was a reckless declaration of war, but war never happened. Takamura's men had infiltrated more than half of Izumi-gumi at the time, which effectively rendered them and broken helpless to fight back. The unprecedented maneuver shook Tokyo's underworld to the core and painted Takamura as an untouchable, dangerous and unpredictable. Even after he was convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to life imprisonment, his gang continued to wipe out the rest of Izumi-gumi's unconverted members. 

Asami had expected the bastard to rot in his little cell, but the threat now loomed over him again, casting its ugly shadow over his organization and Akihito. He regretted not shooting the fucker himself when he had the chance. While he was preoccupied with Bai She's affairs and Fei Long and even went as far as sending one of his own to watch over the young Chinese, he had allowed the mad dog to roam free in Tokyo unchecked. It was a mistake he would never make again, to underestimate his enemy in such a careless way. 

Asami visibly frowned, disturbed by the memories. Turning to his desk again, he picked up the cell phone and typed a few sentences into a text message before sending it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: (my note: v3.2)  
> ** Warning: This is a slow-burn fic. 
> 
> \- Again, this is my first creative writing fic, so please be gentle lol.   
> \- I do have an overall (adaptive) 20+ pages of outline and proper ending. No worries. I won't suddenly disappear and leave folks hanging (unless I get into a horrible accident or something). But I'll be slower on writing the later chapters, so please bear with me.   
> \- Approximate number of chapters: 25 (or less...but don't hold me to it) :p  
> \- Concrits/comments are welcomed. :D Thanks!


	2. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 3,147  
> A/N: I was in my writer's high. Revising took me much longer than I thought. There were entirely new portions by the time I was done. Thank you for all the encouraging comments. :D

It was almost 8 am when Akihito walked his Vespa out of Asami's penthouse's underground parking. He stopped just right outside the building's entrance to secure his bags on the scooter. Pretending not to notice the figure hidden among the trees' shadow not too far from him, he climbed onto the Vespa while whistling to himself. 

He didn't like the idea of being under surveillance, but arguing with Asami proved pointless. They always ended up with mind-blowing sex. And over the course of two months, he admitted he had gotten used to it. Since the older man usually let him do whatever he wanted most of the time, Akihito figured this was probably Asami's way of compromising. 

He snickered at the idea that Asami sent a much older man to tail him this time since the previous guy failed to track him so easily. Did Asami think he'd be more lenient because of the guy's age? He could still remember the look of irritation on the private detective's face when he strolled nonchalantly over to greet the man and introduced himself as Takaba Akihito, his new physical therapist. Then he spent a month after that ditching the man, running away, and pretending it never happened when the guy finally caught up. Their cat-and-mouse game continued, but the detective had definitely earned Akihito's respect for keeping up physically, despite being in his 60s. Though he could not figure out why the man still insisted on hiding. 

A mischievous grin spread across his face as he yelled out, "Nojima-ojisan, thanks for all your hard work!" He waved and sped away in the opposite direction laughing. 

\-----------------------

By the time Akihito got to the shooting location, there was at least twenty minutes before 9 am, the designated time, but it gave him ample time to set up his equipment. He sat on a nearby bench, took out his camera, and began to attach the lens. 

A few minutes passed before he looked up to observe that the park was still very devoid of people. Despite the sun's radiant warmth, the clouds seemed to lurk wearily, threatening to block out the light. It was an ominous feeling. He quickly shook off the thought. Asami's edginess might have rubbed off on him somehow. 

Today, he would be covering a mini sports competition for a local orphanage, a job referred to him by Takato's wife. Due to financial reasons, the orphanage couldn't afford to pay for an ad or even look for professional photographers at an agency, which usually charges extra fees. They were struggling to find someone willing to do it for the low compensation and Akihito being Akihito, couldn't help but agreed to it. He knew he'd only make enough to break even for cost of films, prints, and various necessities. It was a normal thing to him, almost habitual. Akihito would take on an array of jobs to make ends meet, even if some weren't as profitable, but charity work put him in a good mood regardless. He didn't mind it at all and it made him more productive. It wasn't a bad idea alternating between charity work and dangerous adrenaline-packed stakeouts. His body needed that break from time to time, as well as from a certain crime lord.

The kids arrived a little bit earlier than 9 am; leaving them enough time for warm-up exercises, morning snacks, as well as giving him the perfect opportunity to get to know them. 

He smiled as he watched them jump off the bus one by one in a single line, following their flag holding volunteer leader like little ducklings following their mother duck. It was a priceless picture. He had barely managed to take the shot before they dispersed and went wild with excitement. Some of the younger ones made airplane arms and chased each other, while the older kids stood to watch over them. He could sense a protective aura the older ones had for their younger counterparts. 

He strode over to the group of adults to greet the man he knew was the orphanage director he met just three days ago. The other seemed surprised to see Akihito, probably not expecting the photographer to be earlier than he was, but quickly nodded and greeted, "Takaba-san how wonderful to see you could make it! We'll be in your care!"

"Of course, Maeda-sensei, I'll do my best," Akihito said with his best smile, now genuinely excited as the children he observed. 

He gave a small bow and headed straight for the group of children still playing and shouting as the adult volunteers tried unsuccessfully to gather them up. Once he got closer, Akihito whipped out his own arms like an airplane, yelled something incoherent, and gave chase to the wandering kids. Some of them were shocked to see an adult being just as silly as they were, but their playful nature kicked in and they ran, giggling and shouting for help. It was actually quite a scene for everyone at the park, even the director was completely thrown off by the photographer as he let out a hearty laugh. Akihito, to his credit, was the only one to successfully 'air-planed' the kids into one space. 

The director started to give his welcome speech while Akihito crouched among the small listeners, secretly blending in. Occasionally, he'd get curious looks his way whenever he raised his camera to steal a shot; but they were not afraid of him. He really wanted to take pictures of them in their candid moments, a personal preference of his. 

Far more than just looking at his targets through the viewfinder, Akihito had always loved to be up-close and personal, to learn about their stories. It didn't take long for him to mingle with the kids. He watched as they opened up to him and accepted him as one of their own while they chattered on about their deeds or misdeeds at the orphanage. Some of them even tried bribing him with cookies and juice to be in more of his pictures. It wasn't until the orphanage director explained that the kids were all told to behave and be in their best behavior for the pictures. The same pictures would be shown to potential adopters. 

With that understanding, he came to acknowledge their motivation, their desire to be a part of something, and to be accepted. He wasn't very different from them. He remembered running around in his rebellious days...well, younger rebellious days with his friend Kou wreaking havoc in the neighborhood like the delinquents they were. He had his share of fun as well as a juvenile record to prove it, but the feeling of never belonging lingered.

Photography, in a sense, allowed him to view things from an outsider's perspective. It gave him the liberty to capture a moment in time when time itself could be so fleeting. Although his father was the one who encouraged him, he fell in love with the art the moment he took his first picture. The freedom to capture anything, the beauty of the subjects' many emotions, and the dualism of truth and deception all belong to the world of photography. It was empowering, a different kind of power, alien to those who are used to always being on top in society.

A voice pulled him out of his reverie and he turned to see that director calling out to him. He grabbed a second camera and hooked it around his neck. If these pictures could help the children even just a little, he'd make damn sure to put in his best effort. 

\------------------

Akihito spent most of the day jumping from one mini competition to another. After filling a memory card and several rolls of film, it was time for a much needed break. His back was beginning to feel like it was carrying the weight of a giant sandbag. It irked him a little that the pain constantly reminded him of Asami. 

When the kids went on a snack break, the photographer decided to flip through the digital images on his camera. A noise from behind caught him by surprise and he turned to see a boy in wheelchair struggling to reach for something. Akihito quickly ran over to catch the kid when he was about to fall, and it looked like his action startled the kid because he immediately withdrew and pushed the his arm away. 

"Don't touch me," The boy with black bangs covering most of his face protested. "I can do it myself."

Slightly vexed by the rude behavior, Akihito narrowed his eyes before a small frown replaced the worry on his face. He figured one 7 or 8 year-old kid wasn't going to ruin his day, so he held back the urge to teach the kid some much needed manners. Bending over to pick up the object on the ground, a small brown leather notebook, he handed it over to the kid. The brat glared at him and took it without even a thank you. _Ungrateful brat._ He shrugged that off too and sat down on the bench right next to the wheelchair. As he resumed looking through the pictures on his camera, he noticed the kid was stealing glances at him, as though his presence was making the boy nervous. 

Too curious to hold back anymore, Akihito asked, "Is there something you want from me?"

The boy jumped, obviously not expecting to be caught so soon. "Wh-what are you looking at?"

"What...this?" He held up his camera. "Want to look?"

The kid looked away and then down at his lap before turning to him again and nodded. 

Akihito chuckled, the initial irritation now gone. It wasn't in his nature to hold a grudge anyway and he scooted closer to the boy. He then proceeded to show the boy the many pictures he had taken of the other children, both normal and candid shots. The kid didn't say much as his eyes were diligently focused on the screen, his face animated with different expressions as he took in the images, and the camera firmly secured in his small hands. In a swift move backward, Akihito lifted the manual camera still hung around his neck to snap the image before him. The boy head snapped up the moment he heard the sound and his face displayed a confused look. It was another priceless shot. Akihito smiled.

"I'm sorry. You were just so into it. I find it endearing. Do you want to try it?"

The boy nodded and the photographer didn't hesitate to show him how to work the manual camera. While the boy was distracted again, Akihito swiftly took several digital shots as he was really enjoying watching the kid's genuine interest in photography. He was becoming fascinated with the kid. For some reason, the boy reminded him of Asami; minus the cold demeanor, smartass remarks, and crime boss aura of course. Maybe without all that pride, Asami wasn't different from this kid, just misunderstood.

"I'm Takaba Akihito. What's your name?"

The boy looked at him again, though his expression and demeanor were evidently more relaxed than their initial encounter. "Yukio." 

"Yukio-kun huh...so why are you here by yourself?"

"I'm fine here."

"If you come closer, I'll let you take their pictures," Akihito coaxed.

"It's fine. This is still better than the hospital."

Akihito snickered. _Stubborn brat._ "I'll tell you what. I'll come by the orphanage at a later time to show you some of my photography collection if you at least try to talk to the others. You're interested?"

The kid mulled over the offer before nodding. 

"Time for me to get back to work." Akihito gave Yukio a beaming smile before strolling back to the other children. 

\-------------------

The man in charge of tailing the young photographer got out of his car, parked not very far away from the photographer's own Vespa, and made his way to a street corner. He stopped just right behind a corner to peer across the street for his target, partially concealing himself behind the numerous vending machines that littered the area. 

Takaba Akihito, photographer and modern day ninja. The kid was more elusive than the country's top criminals. In all his years as an ex-cop and now a private investigator, he'd caught countless men and effectively earning himself the hunter nickname, but this kid was a whole other species. Maybe he was getting too old for this job. 

He scanned the park again to see Takaba crouching behind a group of children snapping away enthusiastically. He snickered at the memory of the cheeky brat speeding away earlier. He didn't dislike the kid and was rather inspired by his passionate devotion to his job, something he observed for the last two months. Such a young fellow trying to making an honest living out of something he loved. It inspired his old self to protect such purity and innocence, but even he knew that was unrealistic. For anyone associated with Asami Ryuichi had probably glimpsed into the darkness at some point. 

He sighed and let some of the tension escaped him. It'd look like he could breathe easier today. The kid was like a walking danger magnet because scum from all the dark corners of Shinjuku were drawn to him like flies. Perhaps the scarier thing was that the photographer himself could conveniently walk into trouble like it was nothing. _Does he live on adrenaline?_ Being weary of potential molesters, thieves, thugs, ruthless criminals, and whatever crazy situation Takaba Akihito often got himself into made this job extremely stressful. Sometimes, he wondered if it was worth it when the youth managed to ditch him for the umpteenth time. Retirement was extremely tempting, but he owed Asami a personal favor and he wasn't about to find out what would piss the man off. Nevertheless, he'd persist because Takaba reminded him of someone he knew a ghost of his past.

The detective sighed again as he made his way to a cafe nearby. It was a small shop with a sparsely decorated outdoor setup. A few chairs hidden behind flower arrangements and some dried up potted plants. It'd do. He figured he'd be here for a while. A short female waitress appeared as soon as he sat down in one of the outdoor chairs and he ordered a nice glass of iced coffee. When the waitress returned with his order, he offered her the money for the drink, which earned him a confused look from the waitress. Only a fool would truly believe nothing would happen. He should always prepare for the worst case scenario. 

At least two hours passed before he decided to call his employer. The man would be pleased to know his young lover wasn't on one of his scoop chasing thrill hunt today. As he listened to the ringing, he realized for the first time in a long time, his reports wouldn't start with 'I lost his trail'. _God that kid can make me feel like such an incompetent old man sometimes._ He chuckled to himself.

\--------------

Asami was going over one of his reports when his cell phone went off. He eyed the offensive stack of unread reports nestled on his desk, courtesy of his diligent secretary, and made a mental groan. It was time for the afternoon report, which meant Akihito was no longer in the penthouse and probably getting in trouble somewhere. After the third ring, he picked up the device, half expecting to hear a distressed voice on the other line, "Asami."

A relaxed voice replied instead and Asami sat back in his chair wondering if today would be the day the detective would quit, "Asami-san, Takaba went out for a shooting today. I believe he's covering a sport event for a local orphanage. I did lose him earlier, but he didn't get far."

Asami took out a cigarette, lit it, and relaxed into the chair. His mind trailed off for a moment as he was tempted to tease the detective. He knew Akihito could be a handful for anyone assigned with the surveillance duties. The photographer was pretty adamant on letting him know that he wouldn't take things lying down, putting up the resistance to safeguard his pride, though most of the time he did take things lying down...in bed anyway. 

He didn't want to interfere with Akihito's work as much, but the circumstances had shifted to an alarming state. It seemed only a matter of time before a formidable enemy was loose on the underground world. He'd only get a report whenever Akihito disappear or get himself into a risky situation, but now he wasn't sure if his own sanity would allow the boy anymore of that freedom, the freedom Akihito had treasured so much. As much as he believed the photographer would return to him and he never failed to make sure the boy know to whom he belong, he didn't want to rely on the boy's lack of self preservation.

A hesitant voice spoke up, "Asami-san, would you like me to report in after Takaba is done with the event?"

"No..." he paused thinking a little bit more, "-but be wary of his surroundings. There are some matters on my side I need to take care of," Asami said without revealing too much about his business. 

"I'll let you know if anything changes," the other man said before disconnecting.

Asami closed his eyes and took in another drag of his cigarette. _Don't be reckless Akihito._

He sat like that for a while before his cell phone went off again and he looked at the number. Realizing who the caller was, his expression resumed its familiar coldness, "Do tell me you have something important to tell me."

"Boss, forgive me for not answering your call earlier. I was in a meeting. It looks like the current head is planning to step down once the old fox is released." The other man was careful not to give direct names in case anyone was within earshot.

"That's not news. I didn't pay you to obtain information I already know." 

"I'm...I'm sorry, Boss. I don't understand the situation here as well. It seems only the big guns know what's going on and they're more tight-lipped than I had expected. Pushing anymore would warrant suspicion."

"I don't want to hear any more excuses. Do what you must. I want to know Takamura's true motives before he can cause any serious damage," Asami paused before delivering the final blow, "Fail me and I won't be lenient with the consequences."

"Yes sir," the other man replied before hanging up.

Asami sat perturbed at the lack of development of the situation. His intelligence on the other gangs wasn't telling him anything except for the fact that Takamura would never sit still. Playing the waiting game was making him restless. Right now, he wanted to see one person, the noisy photographer, just to make sure the boy was still within his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a very "thought" heavy writer. I like to give my characters some depth because the plot will be more interesting this way instead of throwing in random names and use them as is. This was also very Akihito-centric chapter and I agonized a little over whether or not I might have went overboard with the details. Every little detail will play a role in my story later. Even the names I picked have their significance. Hope you guys will like it! Concrits are welcomed. Thanks for reading! :D


	3. Intuition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And I bring you dialogues (lots)! Yay! I felt very naughty writing this. And I spent too long sitting so now my back hurts. -_- Hope I didn't make too many mistakes.
> 
> WARNING: Graphic descriptions of implied sex. It's my first time writing anything explicit, so I know it's rough around the edges. Please be gentle.

Akihito leaned against a tree, taking shelter in the shades after a day of hard work. He continued to stand there watching the orphanage kids helped the adults collect all the sports equipment. Some of them were too young to be helpful, dropping things more often than picking them up and haphazardly messing up, but they persisted with a cheery attitude. He smiled, forgetting the ache and pain momentarily. 

It was just a little half past 1 pm, but the somber sky had taken a turn for the worst as the threat of rain and a possible storm overshadowed everything else. Akihito was only obligated to stay until 11, but his enthusiasm supplanted even the back pain, which got worst from all the crouching. 

Even after getting enough materials, he wanted to stick around a little longer, relishing the day's worth of fun with the children. It wasn't until the director announced that they would return to the orphanage earlier than scheduled, which resulted in an outcry of protests from the children that he broke out of the trance. It was silly because he had forgotten that he was still on the job.

"Takaba-san, thank you for today. I hope you didn't have any trouble with the photos. I look forward to seeing them," a voice came from behind him.

Turning around to see that it was the director who found him spacing out again, which he had been doing a lot all day. He blushed for being so unprofessional in front of the man.

"Maeda-sensei."

"I know we are offering you very little compensation for this, and after seeing how much effort you put into it despite the fact, I couldn't help but feel that I at least owe you a personal thank you."

Akihito flashed him a genuine smile, "I really enjoyed taking their pictures. I should be thanking you."

The man gave him an apologetic smile instead and a small pat on the shoulder before turning around to leave. But before he was able to walk away, Akihito called out, "Maeda-sensei, I will drop by with the pictures tomorrow, but there's someone I want to see while I'm there...with your permission."

The director stopped to face him again, "Someone?"

"Yukio-kun," he paused, "He seemed curious in photography so I promised to show him some of my photos."

With that the older man stood with his mouth slightly opened, obviously surprised at the request, though Akihito didn't really know why. After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, the younger man shifted nervously, wondering if he had unintentionally upset the other for some reason.

"Takaba-san. You really surprised me there. In the one month he had been with us, he refused to befriend or even talk to anyone. I was the only one to get any response from him, but even that was a rare thing."

It was Akihito's turn to be surprised, "I didn't mean to overstep my boundaries..."

"No, not at all! Takaba-san, you don't know how pleased I am right now to hear this," the man said with a genuine glee in his voice, his eyes sparkled a bit. "Now I'm further indebted to you. Please...be his friend even if it's just for a little while..." The director gave him a sincere bow.

"No, I'm happy to help, but you really don't owe me anything," a nervous chuckle escaped him as he was unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Then...I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow." Akihito nodded in acknowledgement and the director gave him a last look before walking away. 

Akihito was a little perplexed at the new knowledge, but he decided that he'd rather know more from the kid himself. No use making guesses. He pushed away the thoughts and proceeded to say his goodbyes to the children.

\------------------------------

In a small, isolated room only big enough for four and half tatami mats, the yakuza sat in silence; his expression remained cold, distant, and vaguely uninterested. He kept a fixed gaze on the talking man with half-lidded, gray eyes detached of emotions and warmth. The signs of aging marked his features as well as the mix of gray and white colors of his crew cut hair almost made him appear docile and harmless. But beneath that facade, there was only the excess shell of a man once familiar with human warmth. Across from him, his second-in-command continued to update him on the outside world, the details about his rival, the organization, and the activities of the underworld. 

"Takamura-sama. Asami Ryuichi is making his move. We suspected a few rats in our group, but I haven't given the orders yet. What do you want me to do with them?"

The yakuza laughed, the deep baritone breaking the stillness of the room. A few seconds passed before his expression resumed the coldness. "Ignore them. I want to let him keep guessing and running in circles like a dog on a chain leash."

"I've already set up the meeting with Murata. He's proving to be a useful tool like always," the subordinate snickered. "If the paperwork goes through without any trouble, we can get you out sooner than planned." 

"The photographer." It wasn't a question, but a demand for information.

"We've been watching him. Asami hired an old acquaintance of yours to keep watch on the boy. Maybe he thinks that would prevent us from doing anything, what a joke."

The yakuza shot a death glare at his subordinate, "Send Asami a gift once you confirmed the release date. Make sure it's memorable."

The subordinate smiled wickedly, understanding the meaning of 'gift' as 'warning'. Nobody had dared to take on Asami Ryuichi for the last 5 years and the Matsuda group's influence declined considerably. After wiping out the last of Izumi-gumi's members, the group had been laying low, avoiding direct conflict with Asami. It didn't take long for Asami to assert his authority, controlling Tokyo's underground like his personal playground. It also didn't help that their boss had been unresponsive until now. The current head of Matsuda was just a puppet, a placeholder for Takamura as he directed the game from his prison cell. 

His order to send a gift was a blessing to take action and it was said without hesitation, as though it was just child's play to him. Even after spending years trapped in this place, the man's menacing lust for blood and vengeance didn't fade. 

\------------------------------

Akihito didn't arrive at the penthouse until a little after 3 pm. He had stopped by the store on the way home to pick up some groceries, fully intending to cook something for Asami before leaving for the interview. The man might not be around much, but he knew Asami would always eat the food he left. All of it. It was something that secretly made him happy. 

When he first started staying here, he'd find anything to do in order to avoid being a freeloader. Asami told him to just leave it and stop fussing, but he refused to be some complacent house pet. He'd contribute however meager his effort might have looked like to the older man. Over time, he had learned to pick up Asami's subtle gestures and it warmed him inside every time he thought about them. Though the man's incredible sexual energy was a force to be reckoned with. There was no holding back once the insatiable lust kicked in and the aftermath would consist of him spitting cusses at the man. 

He checked the time again, dropped his camera bag on the bed, and headed straight for the bathroom for a good long soak in the tub. An hour went by before he appeared from the bathroom with only an underwear and a towel. As he made his way to bed to grab his clothes, the phone went off and he glared at the caller's name. 

"Seriously, do you have cameras installed? I was only joking, but now I'm suspicious."

A low chuckle on the other line could be heard in reply to the cheeky remark, "Would you prefer that? I'd enjoy watching you touch yourself whenever you think of me."

Akihito narrowed his eyes. Bastard. "Asami, if you're going to check up on me every few hours, you must have a lot of time on your hand."

"Do you miss me that much? It seems I've neglected you for too long."

"Hey, are you even listening to me?"

"Did you just get out of the shower?"

"What?" _Or more like...how the hell did he know?_ Akihito's eyes darted around the bedroom, checking for potential hidden cameras. 

"Akihito," Asami drawled, "what would you do if I were there right now? Do you want me to touch you?"

Akihito could feel the hair on the back of his neck react to the tease. The blunt question threw him off guard, but he had a vague awareness of what Asami was doing. He remained quiet, refusing to give in to the tease.

"I'll claim those luscious lips...they're made only for me. Sucking on it, savoring your taste...slowly, leaving you struggle for air. Your hands try to resist me, but I won't let go....you'll give in to me. Melt into the pleasure I give you." 

Akihito almost gasp at the memory of how Asami had a knack for making him breathless with his passionate kisses.

"Can you feel my left hand on your back nudging you to come closer as it's slowly making its way down...further...brushing over the sensitive bumps of your back?" 

Akihito breathed in sharply.

"Lie down Akihito. Feel the heat of my body against yours...the body that will only respond to me." 

Akihito unconsciously obeyed, his face already blushing at all the lewd words. He could almost feel Asami's warm body against his as he closed his eyes and gave in to the imagery, not caring anymore.

"My lips are now on the delicate spot behind your ear, nibbling on a soft lobe...gently teasing. Feel the heat of my breath as I whisper into your ear. I continue to lick...down your neck, licking...my warm breath on your skin. I can almost taste it."

A shiver ran down his spine. His heart was racing in response to every word. 

"My fingers are brushing against your sensitive spots. I know you like it when I touch them. Can you feel my lips against your right nipple now? I'm licking it, claiming it in my mouth... biting into it until you beg for me to touch you more."

Akihito was already hard at this point as his hand trailed to his nipple, teasing it, pinching it, and imagining Asami's skillful mouth playing with it. He swiftly removed the underwear he was wearing like it was in his way. 

"Don't touch yourself yet, Akihito. I won't let you. Watch me...watch me lick your swelling flesh. My tongue is stroking it from the hilt...up...slowly....just stopping at the tip...licking up that delicious juice. Watch me claim all of you in my mouth. Feel the soft, wetness within as I continue to swallow you deeper ...."

The photographer shuddered at the thought of Asami's tongue on his erection. He took the erection in his hand and began to stroke slowly. The pre-cum dripped on his hand, making it easier.

"Open up for me, Akihito. Let me see that you want me...want me to touch you."

Akihito did so, following Asami's suggestions without protest. He was already breathing harder than before and he knew could hear him.

"Put me on speaker. I want you to use your other hand."

The younger man obeyed, placing the phone close enough to his right ear.

"Use your hand to massage your balls. Take your time. I want to watch you..entice me," Asami drawled.

Akihito groaned at the feeling of his balls being massaged. The added sensations sent every nerve in his body tingling. Asami's deep voice next to him made him crave for man's touch even more. 

"Use your fingers...imagine they're mine...use them to touch your puckered opening."

His fingers gently brushed against the opening and he jerked a little, slightly surprised at how sensitive his body was.

"What do you want me to do Akihito?"

"Asa...mi..." Akihito whimpered. "I want to--"

"Do you want me to fuck you...drown you in pleasure?"

Akihito let out an incoherent sound.

"I'll allow it. Use your fingers, Akihito. Watch me enter you slowly as your body give in to me...watch me push pass your tight hole."

Akihito inserted two fingers, getting impatient as he desperately tried to obey Asami and tending to his own need for release. The moment he did though, he arched into it and his body shuddered in response to the invasion. He almost came at the pleasure because his other hand never stopped stroking the hardened flesh.

"Do it faster. Watch me bury it inside you every time. Harder. Swallow all of me."

"Ugghhh....." Akihito cocked his head to the side as he began to move the fingers in an out and stroking himself at a faster pace.

"Let me know how much you want me."

Akihito was panting hard into the phone. Despite being so far away, he could feel Asami's presence next to him. The way Asami would touch him, send him over the edge with every touch, and ultimately claim him in complete euphoria. He breathed in deeply, imagining Asami's smell; a mix of musk, tobacco, and cologne. He stroked faster while his fingers penetrated his opening as he rocked his hip into them. 

"Come for me, Akihito"

"Asami!" Akihito moaned loudly as the wave of pleasure washed over him, creating a rippling mix of sensations, and his body convulsed slightly as he rode the last few seconds of his climax. He continued to lay there gasping for air, recovering from one of the most intense masturbation he ever had. He was slightly embarrassed that Asami would know how to make him feel this way with just his voice even if they weren't physically together.

"Perverted bastard..." he managed to utter breathlessly before hanging up.

 

On the other line, Asami could hear Akihito's hard panting before calling out his name. He waited with closed eyes. He wanted to hear the boy's breathing, imagining himself next to him, resting on his chest and listening to the familiar rhythm of his heart. To be able to bring Akihito to such a state without being there himself was something he didn't expect. He didn't think the photographer would be so responsive to him and it made him proud. 

He smirked at Akihito's insult before disconnecting and finally looked down at the painful bulge in between his legs. The wet stain was already visible through his dress pants. He stood and made his way to the private bathroom. It looked like the boy's mouth would need some discipline later.

\------------------------------

Akihito arrived at the chief editor's office a little bit before 7 pm with camera equipment packed and ready. The older man greeted him with enthusiasm and introduced him to a young man who was sitting in the office when Akihito walked in. 

"Takaba-san, I want you to meet Kichirou, our new journalist. He's only one year younger than you," Kohei spoke up when he saw Akihito looking at his the other boy.

"Hello Takaba-san. I've heard a lot about you. I'll be in your care," the younger man stretched out his arm to offer a handshake. Akihito responded to it with a smile, secretly hoping the things he heard weren't bad things. Even he knew about his knack for getting into trouble.

"Nice you meet you too. I didn't expect to meet someone younger than me in the field."

Kohei continued, "Kichirou will be conducting the interview, but he'll need all the help he can from your guidance, Takaba-san. I've already contacted the other party that you will be there by 8. If there's anything you need to ask me, you can reach me on my cell." The older man handed Akihito a piece of paper with the address and a manila folder with paperwork for the interviewee to sign. Both men bowed before exiting the office. 

As soon as they stepped out, Kichirou spoke up again, "Takaba-san, how do you plan to get there?"

"I have my scooter, so I can meet you there."

"Why don't you ride with me in my car? I can drop you off here once the interview is over."

"Uh...sure." Akihito didn't know why Kichirou was acting so familiar with him, despite the fact that they have only just met barely 5 minutes ago. 

They made their way to the underground parking area and walked for a while until they stopped before a small, compact-looking, navy blue Nissan. He got into the car all the while smiling at his musing. The old detective would be pissed since he parked his Vespa on an outside street and walked here, so the old man would think Akihito was still in the building. Oh well. 

The two young journalists sat in the car in semi awkward silence. Akihito took the chance to size up the other. The kid had dark, black hair which contrasted greatly against his pale skin. He didn't look like the athletic type, but he didn't weak either. The dark aura around him made him appear much older than his age and it was strange. Akihito didn't know what to make of it. The air of mystery that surrounded him was almost as thick as Asami's.

"Is there something on my face, Takaba-san?" the younger man spoke up, obviously aware that Akihito was watching him.

"You can call me Akihito since I'm only one year older," the photographer replied, his voice steady, but cautious.

Kichirou smiled. "You seemed to be suspicious of me."

"Huh? Oh...no I was just wondering why you called yourself Kichirou instead of introducing your full name."

"Well, I want to keep that a secret at the moment since I'm still exploring the field. I have a personal reason as well, but I didn't mean to come off as rude. My last name is Miyazawa."

"Your family doesn't want you to get into this field huh?"

The boy shifted his gaze from the road to him for a few seconds, his eyes showing both surprise and awe. "You have sharp instincts, Takaba-san."

Akihito laughed. He couldn't tell the truth about his relationship with Asami and their daily bantering, the tactical bargaining he had to do to fight the domineering bastard, which he'd lose miserably most of the time anyway. 

They arrived about half an hour later at an expensive looking house that looked like it belonged to a prestigious owner. It didn't occur to him that the person they were interviewing was Murata Naoko, wife of the Minister of Justice Murata Seiichi. The interview went very well and he stood in the background snapping away. He had thought Kichirou would be nervous for a first time interviewer, but the younger man carried himself flawlessly. He was eloquent, calm, and respectful throughout. Akihito almost believed that he was watching an experienced professional.

\------------------------

After they left the residence, Kichirou invited him to dinner, and Akihito was about to refuse when the other insisted that it was to celebrate his first successful interview, so he accepted. They found a friendly ramen shop a couple of blocks away. It was mostly empty, except for a couple of the locals chilling and talking in the background. It wasn't until after they ordered food that Kichirou spoke up again.

"You seemed like the ramen shop type, so I chose this place. I hope you don't mind."

"Isn't this your celebration dinner? You didn't have to choose it because of me..." Akihito responded. 

Kichirou gave him a nervous smile. "I'm sorry. Was I being too forceful? I'm just shy around new people."

"It just felt like you knew more about me than what I know about you."

Kichirou didn't respond to the allegation. He kept his gaze downward as though he was thinking hard about something. A few minutes passed before he looked directly at Akihito, a glint of what appeared to be longing flashed across his eyes. Akihito didn't know what to make of what he saw. It confused him even more.

"I came across your photos once and I really liked them. Your technique and skills are exceptional. When I found out you were only a year older than me, I was very surprised," he paused to deliberate over what he was about to say. "You reminded me of someone I knew. She was a journalist. Maybe a part of me wanted to understand why she chose this path."

Akihito was about to ask who the person was, but Kichirou answered as though he had read his mind, "She was my mother."

"I didn't mean to make you remember something painful." Akihito shifted nervously in his chair. He felt the pang of guilt for feeling like he had forced the younger man to reveal something personal. His defensiveness came from the paranoia of strangers after what happened in Hongkong. He gave Kichirou an apologetic smile. God, I must have acted like an ass. 

Kichirou, as though reading his mind, returned the smile, "Don't worry Takaba-san, it's normal to be suspicious in your line of work. I heard that criminal photojournalism is your actual passion."

"I like the occasional thrill," Akihito admitted without hesitation. 

A waiter interrupted the conversation to deliver two large bowls of ramen. Akihito dug into his tonkotsu ramen with kakuni topping gleefully, eager to fill his stomach and taste the familiar and hearty flavor, unaware that Kichirou was quietly observing him. He was halfway through the bowl when the younger man spoke again.

"Did you know why we had to interview Murata Seiichi's wife, Takaba-san?"

Akihito looked up, evidently confused by the question. "I thought because they donated a large sum to the charity for handicapped children." He had picked up the bits of information here and there during the interview.

"Yes. Did you know that Murata Koji, Murata Seiichi's second son got into a car accident a little over two months ago? A family of three was in the other car. The parents never made it and the sole survivor, the son, was in a coma for a month. He was sent to a local orphanage when he woke up."

Akihito narrowed his eyes, his ramen temporarily forgotten. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"There was no witness when it happened, so the case was declared an accident. Murata Koji claimed that he was hit by the other car, and the court ruled in his favor. Nobody knows the truth because there were no news about it," Kichirou divulged the information in a cool manner, as though it was yesterday's news. But to Akihito, it touched a nerve as the contents were both disturbing and frightening. 

"You didn't believe it, didn't you? Something was off about the whole thing and you want to know the truth." 

"Yes, that's why I want to recruit your help. The rumor was that Murata Koji was intoxicated when he drove that day. There was a witness, but the man never showed up to report to the police."

"How did you know so much about this? And if that's the case, why did you agree to do the interview?" Akihito narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of everything.

"I have my sources. I wanted to do the interview to confront Murata Koji who had been hiding in his house ever since the accident." 

Akihito frowned as he digested the information, the red lights in his mind lit up like wildfire, screaming at him to get to the bottom of things. But the last time he tried to play the hero, he was caught up in a war between two of Asia's biggest crime lords, and that wasn't something he wanted to deal with again.

"Are you telling me the donated money would go to the orphanage with the surviving victim?"

Kichirou nodded. 

The photographer continued, "Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I think you'll help me. Others would cower and pretend not to hear, but I think...believe you are not like them."

Akihito snickered at the comment. He had always dived headfirst, chasing scoop with very little consideration for his own safety, but Hongkong had taught him a valuable lesson. There is a consequence to everything. He could still remember the moment when he was shot, the fear that shook him to the core, the image of the other end of the barrel ingrained into his memory.

"I'm not the hero you think I am," Akihito sighed, his body suddenly feel weary and his appetite now gone. 

Kichirou watched the photographer let his shoulders slumped a little. There was an internal battle in the other man that he could not see. "Takaba-san. I won't force you to help me because this could be dangerous, but I will wait for your phone call tomorrow. There will be a meeting between Murata Seiichi and a yakuza group's top lieutenant."

Akihito thought about it, weighing every word. "What's the orphanage's name?" He sat still as Kichirou revealed the name, his eyes widened at the realization, and a feeling of sadness overcame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's End Note: I do research for almost everything I write mostly because habits die hard, so sometimes I spend hours working on one paragraph. Oh the distractions! I watched this one hour youtube video on Japanese prisons to get an idea and man it was so interesting! Then I watched another on American prisons and that was interesting too. And my story isn't even about prison life, but now I feel...enlightened! lol Just something I want to share with you guys. I didn't get the information I wanted though, so I ended up just making it up. XD 
> 
> Bet you guys didn't expect phone sex lmao. I have my reasons. I want to thank all who left reviews/comments. They really helped. Special thanks to Sunflower1343 for her helpful/encouraging comments too.


	4. Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was actually a part of chapter 3, but I had to split them. The previous was too big. I intended to post them back to back, but I was so tired the other day. I apologize. I saved this one until today to give it the polish it deserved as well as made some tweaks. Trying to keep the flow of things. I also added a sentence in here to quote Coritos. lol. Gave Asami's men some love too. Gonna take a break now.

Kichirou kept his eyes on the road, occasionally stealing glances at Akihito. He was finding it difficult to focus as they sat like that for at least thirty minutes of pure agonizing silence. The photographer had kept his silence as though he was avoiding an uncomfortable subject. He didn't inquire further after being told the name of the orphanage and the boy's name. At first, he assessed the other's behavior as fear and hesitation, but the sadness in the photographer's eyes revealed an inner turmoil that he couldn't comprehend. It seemed he was affected on a much more personal level.

He had expected Akihito to be angry or even defensive. After all, their meeting was nothing but unusual. The photographer should already guessed that it wasn't a coincidence. Kichirou had personally set up the interview under the pretense of charity work promotion. He had deliberately dodged all the other days Akihito was unavailable, and refused when Kohei tried to assign a different photographer to him. 

He didn't want to approach the photographer directly and bluntly, and instead made it so that Akihito could be at the interview with him in person. He wanted Akihito to see for himself the contrast between the powerless and those who protect their power by ruthless means. The accident that killed two people became news that evaporated into thin air, unknown, unheard of, and swept under the rug like it didn't matter. All the while, the perpetrator continued to roam free, unapologetic about his crime simply because he happened to be the son of a man with both influence and power. 

What the photographer didn't know was that he knew about Akihito's relationship with Asami Ryuichi. It was the sole reason why he approached the other in the first place. He wanted to know--no--to understand why a criminal photojournalist would share the same bed with a dangerous man like Asami, all the while risking his own career and potentially face public condemnation should the relationship be made public. He couldn't comprehend the other's decision and any reason he had thought of as a possible motive became a dead end. 

And after he approached the photographer to present a difficult dilemma, he wanted to see for himself what kind of plan of action the photographer would take. Someone with Murata's status could easily crush a no-name photographer like swatting a fly. Would it still be so easy though if Asami Ryuichi was involved? 

"Takaba-san, is this your scooter?" Kichirou broke the silence after pulling up to a green, parked Vespa.

Akihito had been deep in thoughts the whole time and didn't even realize when the car stopped. He broke out of his reverie and got out of the car. 

"Takaba-san, this is my number. I hope to hear from you tomorrow," Kichirou held out a piece of paper to the photographer. "Even if you decide not to get involved, I'll understand." 

"Thanks," Akihito uttered weakly. 

Kichirou stayed in his car and watched as the photographer drove away. In the corner of his eye, he spotted an old man stepping out of the shadow and walked towards a parked car not too far away. He couldn't make out the man's face until the man looked in his direction and their eyes met momentarily. _'What is he doing here?'_

\--------------------------------------------

Suoh, Asami's most trusted bodyguard and competent head of security, stood not too far away from his boss' office door, unflinching and impervious. The large shoulders and bulky body hidden underneath the black suit and tie were enough of a threat to anyone who'd even dare glance his way, let alone approach the man. 

Little did they know that the bodyguard was trying his best to hide the discomfort of his circumstances, which was him being outside Asami-sama's office in that moment, something he'd been doing every single day and wouldn't complain any other time. At close inspection, one would notice the crack barely concealed in his stoic expression, the stiffness in his shoulders, and the slight tension in his posture. 

He was under a different kind of pressure as he was failing miserably to tune out the phone conversation between his boss and the cheeky photographer. The office door was thick enough to block out potential eavesdroppers a couple feet away, but not enough for someone standing right in front of it. He had listen in on many of Asami-sama's phone calls, most of them business related and or the usual tactical commands for members of the organization. It was a trust only given to those within Asami's inner circle, his closest bodyguards, and he was proud to be a part of it, except given the situation, he didn't want to be there. He didn't expect to be hearing such lewd words coming from his boss' mouth. _'The man should be an erotica author'_ Suoh mused. 

Although the bodyguard was tempted to move away, he stood his ground, looking menacing in hope of deflecting any victim... stray passersby. He made up his mind that protecting the boss' privacy was still among his duties as a bodyguard. 

Kirishima, Asami's right hand man and capable secretary, casually walked up to the bodyguard with several folders in hand, ready to enter the office to deliver some last minute reports to his boss. But the bodyguard didn't budge from his position, effectively blocking him. The secretary looked up with furrowed brows and Suoh shook his head. It wasn't a rude denial of entry, but a warning. They communicated only through their eyes, a special exchange of trust between friends. He lifted his eyebrows slightly when realization dawned on him as he listened from where he stood. Kirishima understood. He looked at Suoh again with a 'thank you ' expression. Suoh nodded in understanding. 

Kirishima decided to stay by his friend to share the other's misery, despite how awkward the situation was. It was pretty rare for Asami-sama to be so indiscreet, except for when the photographer was involved.

Others would only see Asami-sama as an untouchable crime lord who held Tokyo's underworld in his hand with an iron will. The cold exterior and domineering aura the man wore made up only one aspect of his true self. Both Suoh and Kirishima were fortunate enough to witness the other side of Asami capable of human warmth and affection. Only one person was able to bring that part of his boss to light and he suspected the boss might not even be fully aware of it himself. 

Takaba Akihito, a kid who barely graduated into the adult world, came off as a two-bit punk of a photographer who had the gall to challenge the boss when they first met. It was an anomaly both Suoh and Kirishima didn't quite understand. For a man like Asami who exuded power and authority from the tip of his hair to the sole of his feet to care so much over some spunky kid was inconceivable. 

Although both Kirishima and Suoh followed Asami-sama's orders to the letter without protest, they were reluctant to accept Takaba as something more than just a temporary fling, another cycle in one of their boss' whims. It wasn't until the Hong Kong affair that the full impact of the truth really hit them. For the man to go as far as taking bullets and then dragging his still wounded body into enemy territory for the kid was beyond what anyone had expected. 

Since then, the two loyal men stood from the sideline, observing the kid's unbroken spirit as he picked himself up from the trauma of everything that he had been through. They watched the youngster got himself in trouble over and over again and their boss' patience tested every time, but the sight of their bantering was already an endearing image. 

They couldn't blame their boss for wanting to get some relief from the pent-up tension and edginess. It had been a rough two weeks for the organization ever since they were informed of Takamura's release. If it wasn't for an inside source working in the department of justice, they would have to deal with a much angrier Asami. The boss was furious and that was an understatement. 

Kirishima could still remember that day as the events unfolded. He was directing orders to the manager of Club Sion when an unexpected phone call came in. His first reaction to the news was that it was a prank as he refused to believe in the ridiculousness of a murderer walking away with only a 5-year prison term. The bastard was lucky he didn't get a death sentence. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but his guts was telling him the joke would be on them if he didn't take it seriously. He recalled steeling himself as he trudged to the office to face the unavoidable, his boss' wrath. Without bothering to knock, he barged into the office, bowed, and waited. The man gave him an irritated look, politely excused himself to his client and disconnected the call, then shot him the _'This better be good' death glare._

Asami sat perfectly still in his chair as he absorbed the news. His cold and impassive expression appeared unchanged, but the secretary didn't miss the dangerous aura radiating from his body. The golden orbs that could pierce the soul and force the other to submit to them, to divulge every truth made him flinch a little as he felt very small under their gaze. The silence that followed was equally intolerable and suffocating. Perhaps the worst thing of all was that there was rarely a time when his boss didn't smoke under any circumstances, but the man didn't smoke at all that day. 

Asami just spent the most of the day staring out the window, lost in thoughts. As a precaution, the secretary cancelled all meetings and barred anyone from entering the office in case his boss was trigger happy. Kirishima knew Asami was thinking of only one person and one person alone, the ever feisty and restless photographer.

Takamura was never done with his blood lust even after wiping out all the members of the Izumi clan. He'd kept his grudge, blaming Asami-sama for his wife's death. The man had been sitting in his prison cell directing his little gang like a self-proclaimed puppet master, waiting for the right moment to slash his opponent's throat in the most effective way possible. It was an oversight on their part for not picking up Takamura's scheme sooner. If Takaba Akihito was Takamura's true target, war would be inevitable. 

Since receiving the news, Asami-sama was fixated on work, attending countless meetings and events, a way to remind others who was their true boss. The boss acted like he didn't give a damn about what the rat in the prison cell was playing at, but the man was clearly getting impatient and irritable as the days went by. There was little progress in terms of intelligence on Matsuda-gumi's motives, and their spy network within the gang came up with nothing useful. It was both strange and bizarre, as though Takamura just knew how to push the boss' buttons, and his little mind game did affect Asami-sama to a certain degree. 

"Kirishima," the deep voice came from within the office, effectively breaking the secretary out of his reverie. Suoh moved aside and Kirishima wasted no time to answer his boss' call. For some reason, the man always knew when he was close by.

The secretary swiftly entered and bowed. "Asami-sama, I only have a few last minute reports for you to look over. Everything else had been taken care of." 

"Did you hear everything?" Asami asked with his trademark smirk. 

Kirishima blushed slightly as he forced a cough to avoid answering. He reminded himself that his boss could be sadist sometimes. 

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito left all of the lights off in the penthouse except for his bedroom's where he sat looking at the photos he took that day. Except he was scrolling through them mindlessly, already lost in own world. The day's events played over and over in his head. He had never questioned his love for photography and going into criminal photojournalism was a personal choice. He never thought much about his own safety or the consequences. It was an addiction that sent him knocking on death's door more often than once. 

His motivation was far beyond the simple thrill of the hunt. The back-breaking hours he'd spent snooping in some dingy alley, dirty rooftop, and all the dark obscure places one could think of were all worth it if the photos helped unravel the ugly truth. A chance to expose society's upper-class hypocrites, people who treat those beneath them like leeches and flies while they rubbed shoulders with one another, though they wouldn't hesitate to slit each other's throats if given the opportunity. He was willing to wallow in the dirt and mud, deal with barely making ends meet with the little money, and face the risks of retaliation.

The photographer groaned, slouched in his chair, and stared blankly at the monitor. Despite all his protests and claims, he was still staying with the most dangerous man in Tokyo. Asami was the embodiment of power, wealth, and influence. He was suddenly reminded of how much it had bothered him when he couldn't turn in the stalker moron from the Momohara Ai incident. He was afraid that Asami's involvement in shady businesses would be exposed, except the bastard was completely unfazed. The arrogant jerk even mocked him for it. 

More than anything else, he was angry at himself for hesitating and acting like a washed up journalist that couldn't even get the job done.

And yet he sat here once again indecisive over what to do. It would be naive to think Murata wouldn't touch him. If anything, the man would go out of his way to destroy his career, but he also knew Asami wouldn't let that happen. Or at least a part of him wished that was true. 

He wouldn't hesitate to fight Asami over his career choices, often putting himself at odds with the older man. He had vowed to not depend on anyone's power to achieve his goal; and yet he was now doing the very thing he despised. _'Why am I feeling this way? Why am I so afraid?'_

Akihito stopped clicking through the pictures when the photo of Yukio holding his camera popped up. He frowned. _'Who do I fight for?'_

\--------------------------------------------

It was half past midnight when Asami arrived back at the penthouse. After spending hours plowing through an aggravating amount of business reports, he was nowhere close to done. He decided to leave the rest for tomorrow since he was in such a good mood from the phone call with Akihito earlier.

After stepping in the penthouse, Asami immediately took notice of how unusual it was for all the lights to be off as the photographer had a habit of leaving the lights on wherever he goes. The second anomaly was the eerie silence of the place, too quiet for Akihito's personality. When Asami was living alone, none of this would have been considered abnormal. He smirked at the thought that it didn't take long for him to adjust to Akihito's world, noticing all of the boy's quirky habits and little nuisances. 

He sauntered past the kitchen and into the living room to find the familiar arrangement of prepared dishes on the dining table. _'So he cooked.'_ He glanced over to the living room couch to find it empty, half expecting Akihito passed out on it with game controller still in hand. Ignoring the little red light of warning in the back of his head, he walked back into the kitchen, intending to pour himself a glass of whiskey before dealing with what was to come. 

A small smile graced his expression as he stood gazing at the pink sticky note that said _'Are you an alcoholic?'_ left on the whiskey decanter. Akihito knew he'd go for the hard liquor before the actual food. He plastered the note on the fridge's door, next to countless notes already there, and lifted the decanter to pour when another note at the bottom caught his eyes. _'No, seriously.....you should drink less for your age.'_ A deep chuckle escaped him. _'That brat'_

Asami spent a couple minutes savoring the bitter liquid before heading for the master bedroom. He was about to enter when he saw Akihito's bedroom door left slightly ajar. He opened it cautiously and saw the familiar sleeping figure hunched over the desk, face resting on an arm, and mouth slightly parted. He leaned against the door's frame to take in the image of Akihito's peaceful sleeping face. It wasn't rare to see Akihito passed out in strange places, but it was an image he didn't seem to mind looking at time after time.

He had planned to do lewd things to Akihito, but the boy seemed exhausted from running around all day, so he'd let it go tonight. Though tomorrow would be a different story. 

Asami carefully closed the distance between them and gently lifted the photographer in his arms. The boy didn't respond, still seemingly trapped in the world of dreams. Before he walked out, he glanced at the monitor to see a photo of a kid with dark bangs staring at a camera. _'Must have been a kid from the orphanage.'_ Asami thought before heading for the master bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Suoh lol. Lots of deep thoughts in here and detailed scenes. I just like writing them. Hope they weren't confusing. Feel free to leave comments or reviews because they help me see if my readers are keeping up. Thanks for reading! :D


	5. Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 4,611  
> Disclaimer: All VF characters belong to Yamane-sensei. OCs are mine.  
> A/N: So I realized I made a minor mistake. Akihito used his manual camera (with film rolls) to take Yukio's picture, but somehow the picture magically showed up on Aki's computer. Lmao. Silly me. I went back to fix it. Now it should make more sense. 
> 
> I didn't split this chapter even though it got so big. Less waiting for you guys? I spend too long on each chapter sometimes, so I'm trying to pick up the speed. Don't want to interrupt the flow of some important scenes. Please bear with me though if you see days of me not posting much. My back can only handle so much >_

The insistent buzzing noise of the cell phone finally roused Asami awake on the fourth ring. Normally, it'd take only the second ring to catch his attention as he was a light sleeper, but the sleep deprivation had really taken a toll on his body. Opening his eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of Akihito slightly stirring beside him from the rude disturbance, though not at all fully awake, Asami grabbed the phone before it could do any more damage. 

Without bothering to look at the flashing number, he answered in a terse voice, "What?"

"Boss, I've been exposed. I don't know if the others are too," the slightly shaken and breathless voice answered, as though the owner had been out for a run. Asami could also hear the undeniable fear and panic in the voice.

"Leave. Go to your assigned safe place and wait for me. Inform the others," Asami ordered without hesitation. 

He recognized the owner's voice as Nakano, leader of the group of undercover agents he had sent to infiltrate the Matsuda clan. They were all loyal men, highly skilled in intelligence gathering, and efficiently trained in both a martial arts discipline and military combat. For any one of them to be shaken up like this meant that something went awry. He didn't intend to sacrifice his best men even if his own pride was unwilling to accept that their spy efforts were fruitless. 

"Asami-sama," Nakano paused, "if I couldn't make it out of this alive, it's been an honor to serve you." 

This time there was determination evident in the other man's voice. He was ready to face the worst possible outcome, the fate of a traitor within a yakuza organization. 

Asami knew that if he had ordered them to walk into a bullet storm unarmed, they would do so without hesitation, but the strength of the man's conviction seemed to hit a nerve within him. A reminder that it wasn't his men who failed; but his own oversight on the whole matter, allowing things to get out of control for so long. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I will meet with you soon." He hung up before he'd allow his anger to get the best of him. 

He sat staring into the empty darkness of his room, one hand held an iron grip on the phone and the other curled into a clenched fist. His own expression barely contained the rage that threatened to ignite into flames, burning everything in its path. He was done playing Takamura's games. He'd choke the old fox with his own bare hands for undermining both him and his organization. 

A sudden rustling of sheets interrupted his morbid thoughts and he glanced over to the smaller figure beside him. The photographer stirred in his sleep, evidently disturbed by something. He unconsciously reached over to gently place a hand over the other's head and waited for the younger man to settle back into his dreams. Akihito inhaled sharply in response to his touch at first, but shifted his body closer to Asami's hand in search of the source of the warmth, and his breathing started to even out again. 

Asami continued to stay like that. The dangerous urges slowly fading from within as he gazed upon the one person who had brought more trouble to him than anyone else had. And yet, he found he couldn't let the boy go, despite knowing that Akihito didn't belong to his world. A dangerous and volatile world ready to engulf anyone who was unfortunate enough to make a single mistake. 

More accurately, he didn't want to let go. He wanted to claim all that was of the photographer, mark him, bind him, and ultimately force the boy to submit to his will; but Akihito was never one to give in, sometimes an uncompromising force on his own. The boy would just fight back if cornered and get up again if pushed down. Akihito's resilient nature was both fascinating and addicting to watch. 

He leaned over to kiss the locks of blonde hair; breathing in Akihito's unique scent, a mix of sweat and fruity shampoo. He smiled. Even in the midst of a raging storm, Akihito was always able to anchor his sanity.

He had planned to work from home and indulge Akihito with his presence, but the urgent matter needed his attention. Just one more day.

Carefully getting up from the bed as not to disturb the younger man, he made his way to the bathroom. Asami silently vowed to never let Takamura's poison touch Akihito. 

At least not over his dead body. 

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito jerked awake as the last few seconds of his nightmare were still clouding his mind. His breathing labored and uneven. The small crack in the thick curtains allowed just enough light for his eyes to adjust to the room. He noted that he was in Asami's bedroom, despite not remembering how he got here. 

_'Asami?'_ He looked over to his right, but there was no sign of the older man. A deep sigh escaped him at the realization that he was alone again. _'Just like any other day.'_ Though somewhere in the back of mind, he could vaguely remember the man being there throughout the night. 

Using a hand to wipe away the beads of sweat on his forehead, he closed his eyes once more to allow remnants of the nightmare to seep into his memory. He remembered running away from an unknown man, getting shot, and seeing Yukio drowned in his own blood calling out to him, but he couldn't do anything to save the kid. The deep sense of helplessness overwhelmed all his senses and left him frozen in place. And then suddenly everything was spinning out control. But the most terrifying thing of all was that Asami's familiar back, an image he'd seen countless times, refused to turn to him, to answer his call. He didn't understand why he felt so abandoned and betrayed. The thought sent shivers down his spine as he further recalled chasing after Asami, but tried as he might, he could never reach the man. As everything was consumed by darkness the nightmare ended. Everything else was a blur.

Akihito frowned at how disturbed he was. The last time he had felt this way was when he was with Asami on the tropical islands. He was haunted by the visions of the Russian shooting him in and then almost drowned in the pool when he thought someone was dragging him under. Asami had helped erase the bad memories using his own methods, and in a way he was glad the older man did. 

A part of him really wanted to see Asami right now. To feel the man's warmth and touch him, as though the other's presence alone was enough to make him feel secure in a world that sometimes feel so out of control. _'Crap. Now I really feel like a needy mistress'_ He groaned. Even he wouldn't let himself live down that comment. 

Checking the time to see that it was already 8:47 am, he jolted upward realizing he still needed to finish looking through the digital photos since he fell asleep last night. He planned to drop by the orphanage later to show the director the pictures, so the man could select which ones he wanted for printing. 

He jumped out of bed and was about to leave the master bedroom when the corner of his eyes caught Asami's suit jacket on top of a nearby chair. _'Wait...he was home?'_ Looking around to search for more clues, he didn't find anything out of place. Another sigh escaped him. He should have known since his sleeping clothes still intact. The bastard wouldn't let his ass get away...not that easily. _'Damn. I really need to stop getting so worked up over this.'_

By the time Akihito was done with everything, at least two hours went by. He got everything packed and ready to tackle the day's challenges, but the little unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach was telling him otherwise, that he was avoiding something. He shrugged it off for the time being. There were still questions he wanted to be answered before deciding what to do next.

He walked into the kitchen to grab something to drink before leaving and immediately noticed the dirty dishes in the sink. This time, he was sure Asami had been home--probably when he was sleeping. It was either that or this place was haunted by a ghost who liked Japanese cooking and was polite enough to dump the dishes into the sink. The corners of his mouth lifted into a grin, momentarily forgetting the discomfort of his earlier thoughts. 

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito didn't get to the orphanage until late in the afternoon because he was caught up in traffic for at least two hours. He remembered driving past some areas with giant TVs/projectors and occasionally picking up on the little bits of information here and there. Apparently, something big was happening in the city as the major yakuza factions were getting restless. There were several shooting incidents in some areas that happened just this morning. Even his main editor was trying to get into contact with him, but he ignored the calls as he didn't want to think about it until later.

He shook his head as the news played over in his head. The weather was so much nicer than yesterday as the sun shone brightly with no gray clouds to obscure its light, a high contrast to the chaos happening below. Akihito mused _'Can't they stop killing each other on such a nice day?'_

He looked over his shoulders to search for a familiar looking car, but the detective was nowhere in sight. Akihito wondered if the old man must still be caught up in traffic, since his Vespa was more flexible and easier to navigate around closed spaces than a car. Tokyo traffic was no joke. He snorted at the idea that the detective must have been sitting in his car right now with a really pissed off face, and watching the massive sea of salary men and women in their black suits cross the streets. 

Akihito continued to make his way to the 2-floor building, all the while taking note of everything in his surroundings. A nice little makeshift garden decorated the front of the building and he laughed at how out of place it was. He took out his camera to snap a photo. He wondered if Asami would be pissed if he made the penthouse's terrace into a garden. It'd make sense since the man smoked so damn much, so he should at least return some of that clean air to nature. Akihito laughed at the absurdity of such thoughts since clean air would be the last thing on the bastard's mind if he wasn't already somewhere threatening some yakuza into submission. 

After walking through the entrance, Akihito made his way down the corridor past a couple of administrative offices until he was in an area in the back of the building. He stepped into a segregated area cluttered with more offices and the orphanage director's assistant looked up from behind her desk, who smiled as she recognized him. She greeted him with a short bow and he returned it. 

She walked up to him and whispered, "I'm sorry Takaba-san, but the director is on an important phone call right now. I don't know how long it'll take, so if you don't mind waiting..."

"Oh it's alright. You can tell Maeda-sensei that I'll come back later. I'm going to go meet a friend." 

He gave her a comforting smile to show that he wasn't at all bothered and she nodded. When he tried to ask her about Yukio's room, she threw him a surprise look, the same way the director had reacted. _'Is it really that strange?'_

After she told him a room number, he thanked her and quickly walked out to avoid having to explain himself. Yukio's room wasn't very hard to find since it wasn't very far from the main hallway and located on the first floor. He casually walked toward the room and was about to knock when he suddenly found himself frozen in place, the bloody images of Yukio from his nightmare earlier flashed through his mind. Every muscle in his body tensed at the memory. Several minutes went by before he could get a hold of himself again and he took in a deep breath. _'No, I've gotten this far.'_ Shaking his head to clear the disturbing thoughts, he finally knocked on the door. 

There was no response and he was about to knock again when a small, quiet voice spoke up. "Yes?"

He opened the door to find Yukio sitting in his wheelchair next to a window, seemingly lost in his own world as he gazed out the window, not caring to look at his guest. 

"Hey. Remember me?" 

Yukio turned to look at Akihito. The dull expression on the boy's face instantly changed into one of surprise and shock as his eyes lit up with recognition and mouth slightly opened. It was too amusing. 

"Oi...you didn't think I was lying did you?" Akihito teased. 

Yukio replied shyly, "No."

The silence that ensued was a little awkward though as the kid seemed unsure of what to say next, but not at all uncomfortable with photographer's presence. In an attempt to lessen the awkwardness, Akihito sauntered over to the small twin-size bed and sat down, placing both his camera bag and bulky backpack on it. He unloaded all of the bags' contents on the bed and beckoned for Yukio to come over.

"I got some cool stuff to show you. You're going to love it! Ooh..I brought my favorite camera too. It's an older model, but this baby has been with me through thick and thin. I'm still trying to save up for the newest model..." he started rambling on about camera specs and the latest technology. 

Then Akihito spent the next hour and a half showing Yukio some of his more kid-friendly portfolios containing photos of his past scoops as well as all the events he had attended for work. There were also the less professional photos he took in his early years when he first started photography. 

Yukio followed his every movement, the kid's eyes never breaking focus as he listened intently on every back-story of each photo. Although the boy didn't laugh at his stupid jokes at first, he could feel that the kid was becoming more and more comfortable. It wasn't until Akihito offered the boy his camera that he noticed the small smile on Yukio's face. The kid held the object in his hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. He watched Yukio fumbled with the camera a bit and then started taking random pictures of things around the room. 

"Oniisan," Yukio said in a quiet voice. "You really love what you do."

Akihito met Yukio's gaze. "Why do you think so?"

"Because....your photos...they feel so alive." Then Yukio flashed him the biggest smile he had ever seen ever since meeting the kid. 

It was a genuine smile that reflected his true feelings, cleared of doubt and untainted by fear. 

And in a way, the boy's sincere nature had inadvertently affected him as it was both contagious and mesmerizing. He suddenly felt lighter, his doubts slowly fading away, revealing only the truth that had been obscured in his mind since hearing about the hit-and-run case. It was in that moment that Akihito decided to fight. It would be a dirty battle, but he didn't want to run away anymore.

This was the path he had chosen for himself. He wasn't just some half-assed photographer. It wasn't like him to be so afraid now when he had persevered in the face of danger time and time again. Though he couldn't believe it took him so long to realize it...and through the eyes of an 8-year old. He suddenly felt like an idiot and burst into laughter, which caused Yukio to wear a confused expression. 

"You're right. It's something I love, and I'll never give up on it." Akihito replied with conviction. 

Yukio didn't say anything after, but his face displayed a different emotion, as though he was debating really hard on the next subject.

"Hey. Why are you sulking all of a sudden?" Akihito teased again.

"I don't understand."

"What do you mean?" 

"Why didn't you ask me about anything? All you talked about were cameras and photos."

Akihito pondered on the question a little bit. "Hmm...I might have been known as a nosy journalist, but I'm not going to bully some brat into talking." 

"You're so weird."

Akihito laughed at the blunt comment. He took a few seconds to compose himself again before dropping the one question he knew Yukio wanted him to ask.

"So--what happened to you?" He didn't intend to play dumb because he knew about the accident, but decided it wasn't the right time to reveal the truth.

Yukio shifted nervously in his wheelchair. "I was in a car accident. When I woke up...I don't remember anything about it...or who I was."

Well, the memory loss was something Akihito didn't know about it. Then it dawned on him, the reason why Yukio was so reluctant to make friends. "You must be scared."

Yukio nodded and looked away, "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

 _'You don't have to be. I'll protect your parents' honor. They didn't deserve to die like that.'_ was something he wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud, afraid that he might not be able to uphold the promise.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and a short, bald man entered the room. He was a staff assigned to help Yukio with his physical therapy, so Akihito took the opportunity to excuse himself. The director was probably waiting for him. He swiftly collected his equipment, said goodbye to Yukio, and promised that he'd drop by again when he could. Yukio only nodded in acknowledgement, but Akihito didn't miss the hint of disappointment on the boy's face. _'He must have been really lonely.'_ Akihito thought before heading back to the director's office.

When Akihito finally stepped out of the orphanage, he resolved himself to dig deeper into the hit-and-run case. He had seen worst things. He searched for the piece of paper Kichirou gave him and called to set up a meeting.

\--------------------------------------------

"Takaba-san, I didn't think you'd call me so soon," Kichirou got up as Akihito strolled over to his table. 

They agreed to meet at a small, somewhat run down coffee shop. It didn't seem like a busy place since there weren't a lot of customers around when Akihito arrived, but it was perfect for the type of conversation that was about to take place. The more inconspicuous the better.

"Was that supposed to be sarcasm?" Akihito couldn't get rid of the slight edginess in his voice ever since he realized that the other man wasn't completely honest with him from the start. He didn't dislike Kichirou, but his instinct was telling him to be wary of the other man. Kichirou, to him, was pretty much a mystery as both his true motives and background were still shrouded in secrecy.

"No. I wasn't sure if you were going to call me at all." 

"I want to know the truth since you haven't told me the full story. How do you know so much of everything when other journalists know so little of the hit-and-run case? I just can't figure it out."

"I know someone within the Matsuda group who tipped me off on the case. And as to why I know the source...I can't reveal that detail."

"Matsuda group. What do they have anything to do with Murata Seiichi or the accident?" Akihito couldn't understand why the yakuza would be involved in all this.

Kichirou continued in an impassive tone, "The Matsuda group supported Murata in the early years of his political career and he formed a friendship with one of their previous leaders. But ever since Murata was appointed the Minister of Justice position, he consistently backed out of their dealings and their relationship went sour. When the Matsuda group caught hold of Murata's son's involvement in the hit-and-run incident, they captured the witness and held him hostage."

Kichirou paused to observe the photographer, gauging the other man's reactions as he processed the information. Akihito only kept his gaze downward and remained quiet, despite how shocked he was. He originally thought it was a simple cover-up, but the whole thing seemed more complicated than he had anticipated, like an intricate web of conspiracy. 

Getting no further response from older man, Kichirou continued. "They offered Murata a deal that he couldn't back down from. In exchange for manipulating the prison term of their ex-boss, they'll get rid of the witness for him. If not, they'll expose the truth to the media, which would destroy both his son and his career for covering it up."

Akihito glared at the younger man as understanding dawned on him. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Ridiculous, but not impossible," Kichirou surmised.

"Why are they so desperate to get their ex -boss out of prison? What about their current boss?"

"Rumor has it that the current boss is only a figurehead. The one truly making the calls and pulling the strings is Takamura Michio, their supposed ex-boss." 

Akihito looked up, barely missing the trace of bitterness in Kichirou's eyes as the man said Takamura's name. For a moment, he didn't know what to make of it as the other man had been delivering the information in a cool and composed manner. 

Akihito rubbed his temples. He understood everything, but none of it made sense. The level of absurdity of the whole thing was telling him to reject the information, but his journalist instinct was telling him otherwise. He could feel a headache forming in the base of his skull as it throbbed in rhythm with his heart beat. _'Just how fucked up is this world for a Minister of Justice to be siding with the yakuza? And yakuza bosses are untouchable even in prisons?'_

"How the hell did Murata get away with all of this and he's a minister of justice for fuck's sake!?" 

"Murata is corrupt and his association with the yakuza is a known fact in the underworld. All his business dealings are done in secrecy, mostly in prestigious clubs known for protecting the client's privacy. Have you heard of Club Sion?"

Akhito narrowed his eyes. _'Asami?'_

"Asami Ryuichi is the owner of Sion, but also Takamura Michio's greatest nemesis. I suspect Asami is trying to put a stop to all this."

"What do you mean?"

"You should ask the detective in who shadows you every day."

"Wh-What?!" Akihito stammered, now even more confused than before. _'Is everyone in on this except me?'_ He suddenly felt drained of energy. The puzzles were getting more cryptic and he could imagine himself the victim of some convoluted conspiracy. 

"I saw him after I dropped you off last time. Detective Nojima Norio...the police chief seven years ago. He should know more than I do --the clash between the Matsuda and Izumi groups as well as Asami's involvement in it."

 _'Great. More yakuzas.'_ Akihito groaned at the fact that yet another story was somehow linked back to Asami again, and he realized that this would be his reality as long as he remained in a relationship with the man. 

"Murata and the Matsuda group's second-in-command will finalize their agreement tonight. Here...somewhere in this area," Kichirou pointed to a the location on the map on his phone. "The time frame--most likely after midnight. If you could get a picture of their meeting, he'll be exposed to public scrutiny. He'll panic and slip the more he try to cover his mistakes, which will only lead to deeper investigations. We only have one chance, Takaba-san."

Akihito nodded, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. His intuition was telling him that he was about to step into a pit of vipers, but after learning of everything, he found that it was already too late. He couldn't stop.

\--------------------------------------------

"Asami-sama," Kirishima bowed as his boss walked pass him with gun still in hand. He had witnessed his boss' anger before, but that still didn't stop the chill that ran down his spine. 

The boss' menacing aura caused all the men in the room to tense up instantly and they stepped back out of fear, afraid that any misstep could mean a free ticket to hell any moment. They casted their gaze downward, not daring to meet the cold golden orbs that could rip out one's souls. His presence alone commanded absolute silence and the men held their breath as he slowly made his way to the four dead bodies in the center of the room. 

Asami stopped before the bodies laid side by side. Seven men sent to infiltrate the Matsuda gang. Two of the seven men were critically injured and one still missing. Four of them laid dead in front of him, their bodies decorated with bullet holes; and the thick, red liquid that pooled around them mixed with one another to form a larger pool, giving off the appearance that they were swimming in their own blood. 

He kneeled on one leg before the man known as Nakano, not caring if his pants were soaking up the blood, the memory of the morning's phone call echoed in his mind. He reached out and used his hand to close the man's eyes. It was a simple gesture, a bid for his loyal subordinate to rest in peace as he had done his duty well. 

He stood again, finally allowing himself to look at the note attached to the katana left impaled in Nakano's body, specifically straight through the heart. It was Takamura's sadistic way of warning him, a challenge, and a sick joke. 

The note read _'A gift for keeping the game fun all these years, but it's about time we settle our unfinished business.'_

Asami could barely contain his own rage, his eyes promising only murderous intentions, his jaws clenched tightly shut, a death grip on the gun in his right hand exposing white knuckles, and his other hand curled into a fist. 

"Kirishima," the command escaped him in a low, dangerous growl. 

The secretary was instantly by his side, "Asami-sama."

"Take care of them," the crime lord said before turning and walking out of the room, never turning back. The order might have seemed ordinary, but it was laced with different meanings, something only Asami's closest subordinates would understand. The boss wanted the men to be treated with the utmost respect, given a proper burial, and their family members taken care of.

 

They were one step too late to save these men, despite the building belonging to Asami-sama, a designated safe place only a few within the organization knew about. Takamura's reckless personality only showed how ruthless the man could be by sending his men into a place filled with armed guards, not caring if he was outnumbered. Like a tyrant ordering sending his men to their death. He knew he'd lose more men in the scuffle, but it didn't stop him for as long as his message was delivered to prove a point. 

Kirishima looked over to the dead bodies once more. He had wanted to avoid a bloodbath, but that would be an unrealistic wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's End Note: Btw...I almost deleted this entire chapter by accident. :( But thank god I didn't have to retype everything. Can you imagine? I'd cry. :( I also took out one big chunk of stuff since I felt they were too distracting from the main plot and errr...subplot. Maybe I'll write a oneshot later once this story is finished. *shrug*
> 
> So who wants to join me on this roller coaster ride? XD Thanks for all your comments and kudos!


	6. Precipice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I made it a goal to avoid writing on weekends, but this chapter was an exception because I will be gone for several days (probably a week). I don’t know yet.
> 
> You know the big chunk of stuff I took out in the last chapter? Well, I've decided to add it here and made some tweaks all thanks to Sunflower1343 and Coritos for posing some questions that made me change my mind. I'm glad they did because it helped emphasize Aki's inner struggle. I love it when people point things out to me because I get to see from your perspective. Doesn't mean I'm going to change my story though, but it'll help a lot in terms of clarity. Want to say thanks to all who stuck around so far! 
> 
> * Additional Warning: Explicit Sex (yea I'm not err...an expert smut writer *cough*)  
> I write action scenes SO MUCH faster than thought heavy ones, and smut scenes take even longer. -_-

After pausing for a final glance over his shoulder at the distressed photographer still engrossed in his thoughts, Kichirou briskly walked out of the coffee shop. He was tired of putting up the facade of indifference in front of the other man. He had divulged everything that needed to be said and told the truth, all of it, and only held back a few things about himself. He wanted to know just how far Takaba Akihito would go to chase a story, even if it could potentially destroy his career, and worst, his life; but the photographer had surpassed everything he had expected, an unprecedented outcome of his quest for answers.

The Matsuda-group was a treacherous bunch, unpredictable, crude, and extremely violent. They weren't notorious for wiping out an entire rival group just out of pure luck because that would’ve been a gross underestimation, a fool's mistake. Their involvement in a multitude of illegal activities included gun trades, drugs, prostitution disguised as spas, human trafficking, extortions, real estate scams, and gambling. In their glorious days, the group was a force to be reckoned with when under the leadership of their equally erratic ex-boss and their businesses continued to expand outside of Tokyo. Sometimes, attracting the most dangerous and vicious kinds of men who were often inclined to employ violent means to reach their goals.  

Once their ex-boss was convicted of murder however, they gradually lost most of their influences over the smaller clans as well as their major contracts. It didn't help that Asami's organization was keeping them in check even after the Izumi clan was gone.

Kichirou knew the risks when he pushed Akihito into this situation. He knew--because it was the kind of world he grew up in. He had first-hand experience of the dangers, the fear of constantly watching over his back not knowing when he'd be entangled in yet another violent warfare between the gangs. Sometimes, a small encounter between rivals could easily lead to a full-blown scuffle over issues ranging from a simple insult war to a major territorial dispute. Kichirou hated that world from the bottom of his heart. It was a world that took his mother's life and he'd never submit to it.

Any other sane journalist would know when to back down, especially when the risks far outweighed the benefits. It was a basic rule of survival in this world. Know when to run away for the sake of self-preservation, so you could live another day to tell the tale. He had expected that from someone associated with Asami Ryuichi to have at least understood that fundamental key to survival. And yet, Akihito didn't back down even after hearing everything, fully aware that he'd be the target of the Yakuza.

At some point, Kichirou wasn't sure if Akihito's decision to pursue the truth was due to recklessness, stubbornness, foolish courage, or a combination of all of them. Although something in the Akihito's eyes told him it was more than just an impulsive desire for fame and acknowledgment. It wasn't as shallow as some of the journalists he had encountered. Perhaps there was something at stake he wasn't aware of, a motivation strong enough for the photographer to willingly put himself in harm's way, hanging on to this small chance to expose the truth.

A part of him felt guilty and uneasy for shoving this burden on Akihito, but he had gone too far to back down now. He wanted to know if the other man could pull through until the end, and most of all, to understand Akihito's determination and source of strength. _‘Is he like her?’_  

Kichirou was so lost in his own thoughts that he carelessly walked into another person on his way out, his body clashed into the taller man's chest before he could stop himself. He staggered backward a little and was about to apologize when he looked up, immediately recognizing the other man's face. As though on instinct, he hardened his expression again and composed himself, but it wasn't quick enough to fully conceal his initial look of surprise.

Detective Nojima stood silently with a serious expression as he kept a fixed gaze on him. Kichirou only diverted his own gaze and attempted to walk past the man, refusing to acknowledge him. Before he could get any further though, he felt his arm grabbed from behind.

"Kichirou," the detective spoke in a firm voice, demanding his attention, but Kichirou only shot a glare back at him. "What are you trying to--?"

"It's none of your concern," Kichirou curtly interrupted. He didn't want to explain himself to anyone, especially the man standing before him.

The detective furrowed his brows at the kid's aggressive attitude, but he wasn't angry, just worried that the other was walking down a path he didn't want. It had taken him years to realize that mistake and the results were nothing but sadness and regret. He had paid the price for his own stubbornness and that was something he could never forgive himself for.

"He's not a part of that world...not in that way," the detective spoke up again. "Whatever you're doing," he paused, "I won't be able to protect you from Asami Ryuichi for long."

Kichirou clenched his jaws at the word _'protect'_ but he wasn't about to show weakness to the other man, so he allowed the anger to pass before speaking again, "I don't need your protection. I never did."

And with that, he rudely shook his arm free from the other man's grasp and walked away without turning back.

 _'You failed to protect her.'_     

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito stared at the cup of cold coffee in his hand in a dazed state. He sat like that for a good twenty minutes before the waitress came by to offer her service, but he ignored her and she left with a half-frown on her face. The place was still mostly empty with only two other customers, probably salarymen making the most of their lunch time. The calmness of his surrounding failed to reflect the inner turmoil raging within as he could still hear Kichirou's words echoed over and over again in his head.

If this Takamura was Asami's enemy and he was allowed to use his get-out-of-jail card without trouble, it'd be another failure on his part. Also, the once in a lifetime chance to expose the truth would disappear just as quickly as it had appeared. Kichirou was right. They only had one chance to corner Murata since the bastard went out of his way to destroy any possibility of further investigation on the accident. The only way to work around it was to provoke public suspicion and give the police a chance to investigate him, assuming the police themselves weren't corrupt.

Murata used his power and influence to manipulate the evidence and he'd continue to get away with it simply because he was capable of doing it. And once the deal was done, the witness being held hostage by the Matsuda group would definitely be killed off, effectively shutting down all chances of the truth ever making it to light.

Hell--all of this could be another trap, another scheme from one of Asami's rivals to make Asami submit to their will by using him as leverage. He had only met Kichirou yesterday, but in a matter of two days, Akihito was already feeling like everything was rapidly spinning out of his control. Why did Kichirou choose him? The precarious situation emphasized the need for evidence of incriminating photos, but the outcome remained unpredictable. Failure could lead to his career's sudden death, his own demise, or both.

Asami would surely be pissed at him too. Akihito shuddered at the thought of the punishment. He hadn't seen Asami angry before and he was suddenly afraid to find out. Maybe Asami would be done with him and tired of cleaning after his mess. As much as he wanted to deny the idea of being hurt over Asami's rejection, the guilt suddenly hit him that he had brought nothing but trouble to the other man.

He could still walk away from all of this; pretended he never met Yukio, heard about the accident, or even Takamura; but if he did, he'd never be able to face himself again, let alone call himself a criminal photojournalist.

Akihito eased his iron grip on the coffee cup and pushed it away like it was toxic. He hunched over the table, crossed his arms, and buried his head into them as he suddenly felt nauseous. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. If only time could stop for a moment so he could stay this way for a while longer. The unease and dread he had been feeling since the nightmare continued to plague him physically and mentally, biting sharply, sinking their teeth deep into his consciousness, and slowly gnawing away at his sanity.

The news about the Yakuza's involvement and Asami only unnerved him further.

After chasing countless scoops, enjoying the thrill, and challenging death without a care for so long; he suddenly found himself in a position where he couldn't be careless. Any failure could bring serious backlash, especially to Yukio. It wasn't just to protect his pride as a photographer. No, this was something different. There were too many things at stake and failure was no longer an option.

He couldn't allow that--wouldn't allow that--not after getting to know the victim himself. Yukio's parents were also victims, but their honor was tarnished for being labeled as reckless drivers, as though they deserved to die in that way, and their lives were less significant than those belonging to society's upper caste. Nothing to make a big deal about. And the irresponsible asshole who decided it was smart to go behind the wheels while stupidly intoxicated walked away with little remorse for his reckless actions. That he had destroyed two lives, and most likely a third if Yukio's memories of the accident ever returned.

It was then that he realized there was still a missing piece of the puzzle. He wanted to know. He didn't want to let the fear hold him back anymore. He had been doing that all day, avoiding the questions that mattered and inadvertently left Yukio hanging in the wind, not offering his hand when the kid reached out to him.

Akihito searched for his cell phone and dialed the person he knew might be able to answer his question.

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito didn't arrive at the orphanage until half past six in the evening and his impatience almost got him into an accident on the way. He had called Maeda-sensei to request a meeting and was relieved when the man agreed to it, as though the other could sense the significance of his request. He rushed into Maeda-sensei's office and found the man talking to his assistant. The director immediately shook his hands with a friendly smile and invited him into his office, not bothering to ask why Akihito was in such a hurry.

"Takaba-san, how can I help you? Is it about the pictures?"

"No, I just want to ask you a few things...about Yukio." Akihito didn't bother dancing around the subject seeing how he already got this far.

At the mention of Yukio's name, the director's mood became serious. Gone was the happy-go-lucky light hearted nature the man had shown him just mere seconds ago. Akihito watched the other man in silence since he seemed lost in thoughts as if debating on something. After about a while, the director leaned forward, let out a deep sigh, and his expression relaxed again.

"When I realized Yukio opened up to you yesterday, I had a feeling we would have this meeting. I didn't think it would be so soon. Normally, I'm not obliged to disclose such information to an outsider, but you have proven to be a great help not only to us, but to the children as well--and especially Yukio. I want to get the most help whenever I can in these circumstances. Takaba-san, I think you are capable of doing that."

Akihito let out a short nervous laugh and diverted his eyes. He didn't think he deserved the compliment. "You think too highly of me..."

As though he could read the photographer's mind, the director returned an understanding smile, "Earlier, a staff told me about your chat with Yukio and how long you stayed with him. Nobody could get him to respond for that long since the three weeks that he have been here."

Akihito lifted his head to meet the director's gaze again, "I don't understand. He seemed like a normal shy kid to me."

"After we took Yukio in, we had tried everything to get him to talk--to respond to us, but he kept his silence. At most, he would only respond to the most basic questions like if he is hungry or tired. Anything else..." the director shook his head. "I barely managed to convince him to go to the event yesterday. If we push too much, he would completely withdraw even from me."

Suddenly, Akihito felt the sting of guilt for not saying anything when Yukio confessed about his memory loss. He had held back out of fear that anything he said would have came off as pity or false sympathy. In fact, he really didn't know what to say in that situation. All he could mustered was a statement on how Yukio must have been scared, but that was like stating the obvious. Of course the kid was scared--probably out of his mind. Waking up alone, not knowing who anybody was, or who he was. Akihito had the urge to bury his head somewhere deep in the earth, so he could hide from the fact that he must have seemed like an incompetent ass or worst, a poser who was in over his head.

"Yukio told me he didn't remember anything about the accident," he said with a hint of guilt in his voice.

The older man let out another deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair. "His medical record only mentioned that he’s suffering from amnesia, but didn't name the specific type of amnesia, which I found was very odd." He furrowed his brows, "Also, the record didn't mention any sign of serious brain injury."

Things were starting to make less sense to Akihito. He felt the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the implication that something was very off about the whole thing, an instinctive response to the dubious nature of the situation. "Do you think--is it possible the medical history was tampered with?"

The director shook his head. "I'm not sure myself...at least I was hoping it wasn't the case. At first, I thought the amnesia caused his withdrawal, but it didn't make sense to me, at least from my past experiences with children suffering from similar conditions. Most amnesiacs would show symptoms of confusion, irritability, and sometimes panic.”

Akihito continued to listen intently, controlling his urge to barrage the other man with questions.

"I was talking to the doctor in charge of Yukio during his hospital stay when you came by earlier. Very difficult man to contact you see...as though he was avoiding me. I even tried going to the hospital once, but he refused to see me." With a look of disappointment on his face, he continued, "He didn't tell me anything useful--only led me around in circles and dodged my questions about the brain injury, and then started accusing me of insulting his medical expertise. As a fellow doctor, it was I who felt insulted for his belligerent behavior. He didn't seem to care very much about his patient."

Maeda-sensei grabbed a nearby folder, flipped it open, and took out a piece of paper before handing it him. Akihito looked at him with confusion before hesitantly accepting it. According to the information on the paper, all of Yukio's hospital bills were paid by an anonymous person. Akihito looked up again and was about to say something, but the director beat him to it.

"A charity organization called about one week after Yukio was transferred here. Someone wanted to donate a large amount of money specifically for handicapped children to the orphanage. Charity fund is a major source for all our enrichment activities outside the basic government fund, so the competition is quite tough. Sometimes, I have to wait half a year to get any money. Of course I was delighted to hear about it, but the fact that the money was meant only for us was what made it strange. It sounded too good to be true. The man who works there is an old friend of mine, so I pestered him into revealing the donor's name because I just had to know. It turned out that the donor is the wife of the current Minister of Justice."

The director watched Akihito's eyes widened in surprise, but it wasn't the kind of surprise he had anticipated. His years as an orphanage director had sharpened his skills in observing people's behavior and something told him the younger man probably knew more about the situation than he did.

With a solemn expression, the older man leaned forward again. "Takaba-san. We might be a state-run institution, but we are one out of many. We'll take any kind of funding we could get to help the children as it's unwise to be picky under these circumstances. I suspected something much more sinister than what it appears to be on the surface in regard to Yukio's amnesia...most likely relating to his accident, but I will not refuse the money because it will help with Yukio's physical therapy. I also plan to seek the help of a psychologist to work with him, since he might be suffering from a type of dissociative amnesia."

“Dissociative amnesia?”

“Yes. Normally, most amnesia cases are caused by brain trauma or injury and victims lose their memories, but not their social identity. They may still know who they are. Dissociative amnesia, however, is a type that has a psychological cause where victims repress a memory because it is too painful for them.”

Akihito met the older man's gaze and was about to ask a question, but he stopped himself because he already knew the answer. It was possible that Yukio had purposely blocked out memories of the accident because he had lost the two most important people in his life. If it was too painful, he might have wanted to forget it completely. But what would happen when the memory resurface?

"Yukio is under my care now and I'll do everything in my power to protect him, but I can't risk this orphanage shutting down by going against the people who are capable of doing just that. I hope you'll understand the uncomfortable predicament I'm in and the difficult choices I have to make."

The photographer nodded in understanding. The message was loud and clear. He couldn't blame the man. Even if he had told the director the truth, it wouldn't change anything because the man's job required him to protect all the children and not just Yukio. He wasn't a hero and he might be just another nosy no-name photographer, but he was also in a position where he could do something about it. Whether or not the outcome would be in his favor, he didn't want to give up before even trying. It was never in his nature to take things lying down out of fear, and he wasn't about to let some conceited politician daunt him into surrendering.

"Maeda-sensei, if something were to happen in the next few days, I need you to promise me that you'll protect Yukio," Akihito shot the man a determined look, the flame of newfound confidence flickering in his eyes.

"Takaba-san, I won't stop you from doing what you think is the right thing. I can only hope you don't get yourself in trouble."

It was a well-meaning advice. The director was a smart man. His intuition told him that Akihito didn't suddenly show up asking about Yukio just out of curiosity. If whatever he just told the younger man was the pivotal point in his decision to tread on a very difficult path, he could only wish the young photographer would be safe.

The two men said their thanks and greetings and Akihito promised to come back another day. As he stepped out of the orphanage the second time that day, it was hope that made him feel lighter, the weight of his fear and doubt slowly giving way to it. He made his choice, his heart had responded to it, every beat making him feel more determined than before.

\--------------------------------------------

On his way back to the penthouse, Akihito dropped by the store to pick up some groceries. He had enough time to cook since it was only a little bit after 8 pm. And the last thing he wanted was for Asami to suspect that something was off. The man had ridiculously sharp instincts sometimes.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he could spot the detective's car parked not far away. He parked his Vespa in the exterior parking lot to the side of the building, anticipating a quicker escape. He had wanted to confront the detective earlier and ask him about the Yakuza's involvement as well as Asami’s role in everything, but doing that would be the stupidest thing right now. The man reported directly to Asami for God's sake. No. He had to make it look like nothing happened. Akihito knew Nojima would leave if he made it look like he was done for the day by returning to the penthouse.

As much as he was tempted to head straight for the stakeout location at the moment, he still needed to grab the camera equipment specialized for night photography from the penthouse. Plus, his stomach was growling after spending a day worrying over conspiracies involving politicians and Yakuzas. He could really use a soak in the tub too.

Stepping into the elevator door, his hands instinctively held a tighter grip on the grocery bags. _'Why the hell am I so nervous? He should still be at work.'_ Although given Asami's recent erratic hours, it wasn't at all unlikely that the man was home. He tried to force a laugh to relax himself, but nothing came out so he gave up and diverted his attention to the changing lights on the elevator buttons instead. Except the unease got worst as he watched the light change with every floor increment, bringing him closer and closer to the penthouse. _'Shit'_

It felt so strange because Asami would usually let him do whatever he wanted. Sometimes, only interfering after the photos were taken if they involved his clients. They had their share of arguments and whatnot, but it was never serious enough to put a fork in their "relationship". But this was something different. He wasn't afraid of going to the stakeout itself, which should have been the scarier thing, but he was scared of the one man capable of physically stopping him. He knew Asami wouldn't let him go to the stakeout because the whole thing spelled imminent danger like a blazing red beacon. The photos wouldn't just piss off a powerful politician, but also an entire Yakuza clan; and the only time Asami would let that happen would be when hell freezes over, which would be very likely if Asami was pissed enough now that Akihito thought about it.

The elevator stopped, effectively breaking Akihito from his thoughts, and he dashed out, heading straight to the penthouse which was only a few steps away. He fumbled with the keys, but tried as he might, he couldn't get the damn thing to fit. Realizing that it was getting ridiculous, he stopped for a moment, forcefully closed his eyes, and tried to remember why he was doing all this. Nothing came to mind at first until the images of the orphanage children began to pop up one by one in his head and they effectively soothed his nerves. Then he remembered Yukio's genuine smile; wondering if that was Yukio's first smile since the accident.

Opening his eyes again, he shoved the key into the lock with ease this time and opened the door slowly. Despite already calming himself down a great deal from the little mental exercise, he breathed out in relief when he noticed the penthouse was still engulfed in darkness. There was no sign of another occupant. After changing into the slippers, he strolled into the kitchen, most of the tension from before now gone.

\--------------------------------------------

It was 8:42 pm when Akihito heard the faint click of the door opening. He immediately froze in place, a knife still in hand and onion on the chopping board momentarily forgotten as he perked up his ears to listen. A swift movement caught the corner of his eyes and he swiveled around in surprise, but a strong, large hand grabbed his wrist right before he could make the full turn, effectively shutting down what could've been a fatal accident.

"Asami?!" The knife slipped from his grasp.

A familiar deep voice whispered into his ears and a small shiver ran down his spine, "That was dangerous, Akihito."

Asami let go of his wrist and stepped back to let him turn around.

"Wh-Why are you home so early? I thought you don't get out of work until after midnight."

He felt the rush of blood coursed through his veins as he tried his best to calm himself down before revealing too much. _'Shit'_

Asami narrowed his eyes. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Wh-what?" Akihito tried to busy himself with cooking again. He couldn't let Asami look into his eyes. They always fail him at the most crucial time, consistently exposing all his secrets. But he knew silence would only make Asami more suspicious. "It's nothing. It's just...I don't see you a lot anymore. Bastard."

Asami could sense the strange vibes, but reasoned that Akihito must have missed him. "I just want to go back early--to see my mistress," he teased.

"Oi! I'm not your mistress!" The anger instantly replaced his nervousness from earlier. Akihito spun around to shoot Asami a glare, but the older man was already walking away with a satisfied smirk on his face. He watched Asami saunter over to the other side of the kitchen and pour himself a glass of whiskey, not missing how haggard the man looked. Asami's usual immaculate and pristine look was replaced by a slightly crumpled shirt, crooked tie, and completely unbuttoned suit jacket and vest. A few rebellious strands fell out from the perfectly combed raven hair. It was actually rare to see Asami like that as it gave off an air of vulnerability and he was mesmerized by it, though his intuition told him the man probably went through his own version of hell today.

"Like what you're looking at?" Asami gulped down the last of his whiskey.

Realizing his mouth was opened, Akihito blushed a little and resumed cooking for the second time, though that proved futile because he was so painfully aware of the other man's presence that his mind was already somewhere else. It didn't help that his body responded so naturally to Asami’s heat and his own longing surfaced from within.

Momentarily distracted by his thoughts, he missed the presence that crept up from behind him and fingers guided his chin toward their owner. From their proximity, Akihito could smell a hint of gunpowder and blood mingled with the usual expensive cologne and tobacco. Surprise flickered across his face, but Asami passionately claimed his mouth before he could speak again. Strong arms turned him around and firmly pinned him against the muscular chest. The intense heat radiated from that strong body only roused his own hunger for the other man.

He didn't resist or even pretend to resist as his own desire overwhelmed any of his other thoughts, allowing the tension from the day's stress to gradually dissolve from his body. At least for now, he wanted to think about nothing but the other man, to melt into Asami's embrace.

Asami deepened the kiss and Akihito could taste traces of the whiskey as Asami continued to take his time exploring the cavern of his mouth, pausing in between to nibble on his lips, and swirling his tongue around his; which elicited soft moans from him. Feeling the growing need for air, his hands gripped tighter on Asami's jacket lapels, pleading for release, but the man wouldn't let go as another strong hand cupped the back of his neck and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

"Asa--mi" Akihito managed to say after pulling away just enough and tried somewhat desperately to push the stronger man away, "can't--"

Asami finally broke the kiss after a few more seconds and Akihito gasped for air. He looked up to meet the pair of golden orbs fixated on him, conveying only sincere desire and lust, and his own heart instinctively thumped harder against his chest. The lost time--two weeks of bitter longing, none of it mattered anymore as he was the sole focus of Asami’s attention in that moment in time.

Akihito swiftly reached out to Asami's face and pulled the older man into a rough kiss, communicating his own desire and need, and ignoring the crimson red blush on his own cheeks.

Asami responded by opening his own lips, allowing Akihito to thrust a tongue into his mouth, and he sucked on it, savoring its sweet taste. Their tongues continued to dance with one another in a play for dominance until Akihito bit into Asami's lower lip which evoked a low growl from the older man.

Asami broke the kiss again to look at him, lips now slightly bruised and a feral expression across his face. He admitted he was a little surprised and Akihito's aggressiveness had turned him on considerably, but he ruthlessly held back his own dark urges. He wanted to reward Akihito for his good behavior for the last two weeks.

"You're being so honest today, Akihito"

"And whose fault do you think it is? Bastard."

Akihito crossed his arms around Asami's neck and in a quick movement, he hoisted himself up to hook both legs around Asami's waist. Strong arms immediately snaked around his own waist and held a firm grip on his butt.

Asami smirked at Akihito's boldness before proceeding to carry the younger man in the direction of the master bedroom. He resumed ravishing Akihito's mouth, extracting a series of moans and whimpers as his hands massaged the younger man's supple ass through the black briefs. He really liked the fact that Akihito had a habit of strutting around the penthouse only in underwear, which made it so much more convenient for him.

When they finally made it into the bedroom, he dropped Akihito on the large bed with ease, and began to take his time undressing, first the suit jacket and vest. Next came the shirt and tie. Never breaking eye contact with Akihito who was watching him intently with a slightly parted mouth. He unbuckled his belt, slid the pants and briefs down with ease, and confidently displayed himself in front of the younger man.

Akihito’s eyes trailed from the broad shoulders to the perfectly chiseled abs, and down to Asami's half-erect cock. Despite seeing the man stark naked so many times before, he couldn't hold back a blush and unknowingly bit his lower lips. The air in the room suddenly felt hotter as his own desire burned in his skin, wanting--needing the other’s touch. When he couldn’t wait anymore, he shot an arm out to grab Asami's hand and pulled the man toward him.

Slightly amused at the invitation, Asami bent over to indulge Akihito's impatience by nibbling on an earlobe before tugging at it playfully, breathing in Akihito’s sweet scent. Akihito closed his eyes and shuddered as Asami’s hot breath tingled the hairs inside his ear.

“Sit up. Take this off.”

Akihito opened his eyes and followed Asami’s gaze to the black tank top he was still wearing. Sitting up, he took the thing off and threw it off the bed. As soon as the clothing left his hand though, strong hands grab his arm and flipped him over. He let out a small grunt into the pillow. Asami’s sudden display of possessiveness only surprised him a little as he had seen it many times during sex. It was always a mix of lust and possessiveness, sometimes rough and sometimes tamed.

"What was that for?" He asked anyway, not wanting to give in to that possessiveness…at least not completely.

"I like this side of you too," the seductive, husky voice whispered against the nape of his neck, which sent another shiver down his spine. He could feel the intense heat radiating from the chest pressed against his back, the hairs tingled whenever their skin made contact.

“I was going to be gentle today, but I’ll reward you for your honesty. What do you want me to do, Akihito?”

Asami bit hard into his neck and he inhaled sharply, but the pain only made him more excited. He knew the man wouldn’t let him have his way so easily. The sadistic jerk.

“I want --”

“You want what?” Asami purred, his thumb lightly brushing over a hip bone, causing the smaller body to withdraw from his contact. Akihito was very sensitive today, probably from being deprived of Asami’s attention for so long. It was true they had sex just two nights ago, but today was different. Akihito wanted him just as much as he had wanted Akihito.

Asami’s hand slid underneath the elastic band of the briefs to cup an ass cheek and fondled it gently; massaging the soft, but firm flesh, which caused Akihito to squirm underneath him. Then he got rid of Akihito briefs completely and paused to admire the perky and round ass, an image he wouldn’t mind seeing every day. Using a knee to part Akihito’s legs, he slid a hand down to stroke Akihito’s inner thigh and he was immediately rewarded with a muffled moan.

“And you were so honest earlier…” Asami smirked before bringing a hand down to smack an ass cheek--hard. Akihito yelped out in surprise at the sudden stinging sensation, but refused to give in, knowing exactly what Asami wanted him to say.

“Tell me, Akihito.”

Another smack and Akihito muffled his voice into the pillow again, so Asami changed tactics and bent over to bite into the slightly reddened butt cheek, which cause Akihito to groan. The smaller body tried to escape, but Asami’s own hands firmly held both legs in place, his teeth still on the supple butt cheek with increased pressure, though not enough to draw blood.

“I want you to touch me!” Akihito yelped out in defeat. Shifting his head to one side, he panted a little before finishing off with the usual trace of defiance and said in a raspy voice, “Perverted bastard.”

Seemingly satisfied with the response, Asami expertly pulled on Akihito’s hips until he was on all four, and a skilled hand reached under to grab his cock. Stroking slowly at first then transitioning into a steady pace. He moaned loudly at attention to his aching flesh.

Asami hovered over him again to trail his lips down his spine, alternating between bites and kisses with the occasional licks; and by the time Asami reached the tail bone, his cock was already dripping wet in the man's hand. He trembled in response to every touch as the ache inside him grew to a burning need for release.

Feeling closer to his climax, Akihito fisted the sheets and whimpered, only to be rudely stopped by the hard squeeze from Asami’s hand.

"No," Akihito protested. He desperately wanted to release as it was becoming unbearable.

"Not yet," the deep voice said before he could feel a pair of lubed fingers penetrate his tight ring. He jerked in response to the intrusion and then moaned loudly again. The skillful fingers moved in and out relentlessly, making his cock twitched every time they rubbed against the walnut-size bump. He suddenly felt dizzy and his mouth dry from all the panting.

"Asami...please," Akihito could barely whimper the words. His hands held a grip on the sheets, hard enough to expose white knuckles. “Can’t…”

Asami answered his request by removing the fingers, spread his thighs even further apart, and buried his cock in Akihito's tight hole in two brief thrusts. The sensation of being penetrated was enough to send Akihito over the edge and his body jolted as he came, losing himself to the waves of pleasure and crying out something incoherent.

Akihito felt his knees becoming weak and he collapsed into the bed, except strong hands firmly held his hips in place. Asami waited for Akihito to recover his breath before thrusting into his tight ring. Asami kept the slow and steady pace, despite his own cock already painfully swollen with its own need for release. His other hand reached for Akihito's cock again and stroked in time with each thrust. It didn't take long for Akihito to be aroused again as though his body was conditioned to match Asami's own carnal desires. Beads of sweat rolled down his back as he began to move his hips back to meet each thrust.

Their bodies moved in rhythm like that for a while until Asami pulled out, rolled Akihito onto his back, propped one leg on his own shoulder, and plunged into him again in one swift thrust, burying himself all the way to the hilt. Akihito gasped as the new angle sent new waves of pleasures throughout his lower body, and sent him nearer to the edge again.

Asami picked up the pace. Feeling his own release near, he pounded relentlessly into the tight ring of muscle. His free hand reached out to fist Akihito's cock and watched Akihito threw his head back at his touch. The sight of the lustful and panting Akihito before him, the body that responded only to him invoked a fierce possessiveness within him.

He leaned over to steal a breathless kiss from Akihito, but the other reached up to grab his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. Akihito’s unexpected display of aggressiveness was enough to push him to climax and a low grunt escaped him as he came after a few hard thrusts. He broke away from the kiss, propped himself on one arm next to Akihito’s head, and watched the other’s face contorted with pleasure as his hand continued to fist Akihito’s cock until the smaller body jolted again and released a stream of warm fluid into his hand.

Asami smiled when Akihito screamed his name and he bent over to muffle scream with a kiss.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Akihito opened his eyes once he heard the click of the bathroom door. He waited for the sound of water being turned on before bolting from the bed, ignoring the pain in his lower back. It was his only chance to leave as he had not expected Asami to be home at this time.

Still completely naked, he ran straight for his bedroom, grabbed his jeans and shirt, and got dressed in record speed. He grabbed the camera bag he had prepared earlier and was about to leave the room when he stopped to take a peek out into the hallway. His heart was pounding against his chest as he strained his ears to listen for the sound of running water. After confirming, he dashed out, put on his shoes, and left the penthouse. If the elevator ride going up earlier was nerve-wracking, the ride going down was ten times worst. His palms was already sweating profusely and the only thing that kept him going was probably the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

By the time he reached the Vespa, he checked his watch to see that it was already 11:32 pm. _‘Shit.’_

Akihito failed to notice the figure watching him from the shadows not too far away as he was too occupied with escaping. With one last look at the building, he climbed onto the scooter and rode away. His heart felt heavy from the guilt, as he felt like he was lying to Asami; but whatever the consequences, he’d deal with it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's End Note: XD I really don't know what's wrong with my brain for creating these web-like puzzle pieces, but that is really how I see everything (talking about Yukio's back-story). My plot bunnies...they like to weave mysteries. Should I have written his story as a oneshot? Oh well. Since I wrote it...I might as well share it with you guys. I'm not done with him btw....there's still more to it like why Yukio reached out to Aki. XD I do feel like I'm writing a detective story and Aki's the detective lmao. So what do you guys think? Thanks for reading!
> 
> * Note 1: If you're confused by the first section of this chapter, it's because it's meant to be that way. I know. I'm evil.  
> * Note 2: I chose not to use the normal Japanese yakuza hierarchy (for example Oyabun, wakagashira, etc.) to keep things simple. It shouldn't impede on the story so far. I'm also aware the Yamaguchi-clan is currently the biggest yakuza organization in Japan right now; but since this is VF, I get away with them not existing in this universe :p
> 
> ** Check out the Character Guide I made for this story on my profile. It's not detailed, but it might refresh your memory.  
> ***** EDIT: I went back to rework the sex scene and now I'm satisfied with it. Added a bunch of things that I missed. I was tired when I wrote it, so wasn't happy. Now, it has more flavor and seasoning the way I wanted. XD


	7. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito realizes he's playing with fire when an unexpected turn of events plagues his quest for the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 4912  
> Disclaimer: All VF characters belong to Yamane-sensei. OCs are mine.
> 
> Summary: Asami's nemesis from 7 years ago comes back to haunt him. Akihito investigates a cover-up conspiracy after befriending an orphan boy. Stumbling and falling in the face of obstacles, will Asami and Akihito find common ground before it's too late? What does the end of the abyss really look like when it's staring back at them?
> 
> A/N: Was going to post this next week, but figure I should post at least one chapter per week. Oh man, I’m already breaking my not-writing-on-weekend pattern, but I had fun writing this. :D 
> 
> * Note: Aniki - respectful term for older brother (more often used by Yakuza or gang members)
> 
> ** Edited: 09/1/2014

When Akihito arrived at his destination, it was only a few minutes after midnight. It didn't take long since Tokyo's night traffic was much more tolerable than the highly congested version of the day. He’d parked the Vespa about two blocks away from the stakeout location to avoid the scooter’s engine from alerting potential scouts and scanned the nearby area for signs of people. A meeting between two high-profile parties without scouts sent out to sniff the area would deviate too much from the Yakuza bible. Akihito snickered at the thought. Asami had taught him that after snooping on the man at his various shady meetings, though they usually resulted in failure, but a valuable experience nonetheless.

He checked the phone’s GPS app to confirm the location just to be sure. According to Kichirou, the meeting must be somewhere around the area, but this was a residential district and a less affluent part in the city’s outskirt. The Yakuza could be so predictable sometimes. It wasn't the first time he had to drive to this part of town for a stakeout, but being here always make him feel unsettling, like a bad taste that wouldn't go away. 

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the jacket's hood over his head and held a firm grip on the camera bag strapped to his body before slipping under the cover of the night. Avoiding the dim lights of the main streets, he navigated his way through the narrow alleys, feeling his hand against the dirty, peeling paint of the walls. These buildings seemed pretty run-down, but not completely devoid of people as he could still make out the clothes hung out to dry above him. 

After a few dead ends and turn around, he was getting impatient with the maze-like matrix of the alleys and doubted whether it was such a good idea to avoid the main road after all. The meeting could be happening already and he would've lost the perfect chance. His plan to cook and then leave a little bit earlier than midnight was ruined because Asami really chose the perfect time to be home. Granted, the man lived there and he was only a freeloader. Still, today just wasn't his day. 

Feeling the growing frustration after wandering around in the dark for a while, he picked up the pace in hope of finding the meeting location soon or all his efforts would've gone to waste. His leg muscles and lower back were still sore from the strenuous activity with Asami earlier, but he ignored them, allowing the rush of adrenaline to move him forward at an increasing pace. 

Whipping out his phone again to check the location, he rounded a corner without looking. The phone's reflective light effectively blocked out his vision in the dark and he completely missed the large metal box laid haphazardly on the ground. As he tripped over it, his knee buckled and scraped hard against the box’s sharp edge and the phone flew out his hand. He tried to stand again, but the sharp sting caused him to lose balance as his body spun sideway and he landed butt first on the pavement instead. The loud thud of the impact echoed throughout the alley.

 _"Fuck!"_ Akihito yelped, two hands immediately cupped the injured knee as the sharp pain was replaced by a powerful pulsating once. _'God. It hurts.'_ He grimaced. 

When he realized that he’d just yelled out in the middle of the dead silence, probably loud enough to wake both the living and dead, one of his hands reflexively went up to cover his mouth. He held back the urge to spurt out any more obscenities and expose his location like an idiot. Though his nose immediately registered the stench of metal on his hand. ‘Blood?’

He reached out to the offending metal box and realized it was just some stupid, broken air conditioner that some asshole threw in the back alley. Nope. It wasn't his day.

Using the air conditioner to prop himself into a standing position, he limped over to the phone laid only a few feet away, its light still glowing like a beacon. He bent over to pick it up and noticed the large crack strewn across the screen. _'Well...shit'_

Akihito sighed regretfully as he directed the phone's light to the injured knee and inspected the damage. The sharp edge had managed to cut through the jeans’ thick fabric and sliced the skin just above his knee open, leaving a nasty crimson gash that might need some serious stitching. He grimaced as the red liquid oozed out and started to seep into the jeans. Nope. Definitely not his day. 

Scanning around nervously, he strained his ears to listen for potential lurkers or scouts. For a split second, he thought he heard the faint sound of footsteps, but all he could hear was his own heavy breathing and the loud thrumming of his heart. The place was still eerily quiet, probably too quiet for his nerves. He bit his lips and began to move through the alley again, limping and mentally cussing at himself for running in the dark. 

A few more twists and turns and he reached the end of an alley that opened into a vast area completely surrounded by a rusty, but sturdy metal fence that was at least four meters high. Straining his eyes to look over and past the tall, overgrown, unkempt patches of grass on the other side of the fence, he could see the entrance all the way on the other side and only accessible through the main road. Within the area itself, a giant dilapidated building occupied half the space, probably an old abandoned factory of some sort. The other half was covered with concrete that must’ve served as a loading zone. Something told Akihito the place would be the meeting’s location, seeing how it was so conveniently hidden among the abundant number of shabby apartments in the surrounding area. 

Climbing a fence this high with an injured knee was out of the question, but he really needed to get to higher ground for a better view. 

Following the pathway that hug the fence, Akihito scoured the surrounding buildings for a good stakeout spot; but after searching for at least ten minutes, he was beginning to get paranoid, feeling like someone was watching him from a distance. His apprehension evident when he jumped at every sudden noise and strange shadow movement on the wall. It didn’t help that the buildings along the pathway were also creeping him out, making the unease in the pit of his stomach grow with every step. They seemed somewhat different from the ones he’d seen earlier, as if they were completely devoid of life, and giving off the atmosphere of a haunted town. 

Everything was so damn dark, but he couldn’t risk using the phone again in case someone was nearby. He turned around to backtrack into the alley, but not before spotting the silhouette of a tall building not far away. That would have to do. Wandering aimlessly would be asking to get caught. He quickly limped to it. In his haste, he probably opened his wound again as he could feel the sudden sharp sting in his knee, but he ignored it. 

When he was close enough to the building, he could barely make out its external features under the dim moonlight. It was probably just another abandoned residential building after seeing how it was just as run-down as the others in the area. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door and gently pushed against it as though it’d break and the whole building would crumble any second if he wasn’t careful.

The first thing that greeted Akihito was the pungent smell of moldy carpet mingled with old cigarettes and piss. The strong odor attacked his nostrils in full force and he gagged in reflex. Someone really went overboard with the carpeting in this place since the entire staircase was covered with it. He was suddenly tempted to turn around, but his mind told him otherwise and he reluctantly hobbled over to the stairs. 

The ascent to the top floor proved to be a challenge as each step brought about unnecessary noises that he’d wanted to avoid considering the type of situation he was in. The wood creaked from underneath his weight and the sound of crunching glass against carpet could be heard as he continued to climb the steps. He tried to move to one side of the stair to avoid the glass, but quickly realized the effort was futile as they seemed to be scattered everywhere. It confused him a little as to their origin, but he shrugged it off and settled with the guess that some drunk asshole must have taken his anger out on the stairs. 

After three flights of stairs, his breathing was becoming heavier. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the lack of clean air or the stifling feeling in his chest as he climbed the stairs in the dark. He wasn’t afraid of ghosts or any supernatural entities because they’ll never be as scary as Asami, but he couldn’t help but imagine something was lurking within the shadow, ready to pounce on him. Deciding that his worries were probably spawned from paranoia and fatigue, he continued the climb. 

By the time Akihito made it to the top floor of the 5-story building, he was out of breath from both the physical exertion and the throbbing pain in his knee. Feeling a little dizzy, his hand held onto the handrail to shift his weight to the uninjured knee, but it wobbled unexpectedly and he almost fell back in surprise. After a few seconds of what must have felt like defying gravity, he breathed out in relief. Falling down the stairs would be the last thing on his agenda. 

“I’d be retiring at this rate.” Akihito chuckled to himself, despite his predicament, finding humor during the strangest times. 

Akihito whipped out his phone for the light, probably the only thing it was useful for anymore, and inspected his wound again. The blood had already soaked through about half of his jeans' bottom leg. Now he really wished nobody would find him in this condition. 

With a long sigh and phone still in hand, he wandered into what looked a small two-room apartment, but suddenly stopped at the entrance as he absorbed the sight before him. He frowned at his new discovery. He’d expected broken furniture, a dirty old mattress in one corner, and trash or clothes piled in another corner, a typical pattern of places occupied by swatters; but all he could see were empty bottles of glasses strewn all over the entire apartment. Some of them were still intact and some shattered in pieces. They seemed to be the same size and type too. Even beer bottles had more variety in size and color than these.

Strange. Too strange. 

Not sure what to make of it, he shrugged off the paranoia and made his way to the broken window. Everything in this place were either broken or shady in some way, but changing the location now would be risking his chance for a good photo. He couldn’t afford to be picky. Too tired to deal with the intuitive warning in the back of his mind, he took out his camera and began to attach the lens.

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito sat next to the window in darkness, eyes on the targeted location and camera ready in hand, willing his mind to focus on the task instead of his discomfort. A small breeze gently brushed against the blonde bangs poking out from under his hood, cooling the beads of sweat hidden underneath. Only fifteen minutes went by, but it felt like the longest fifteen minutes of his life. Sleepy, tired, in pain, and in desperate need of a hot shower; he continued his vigilance in silence.

The wound seemed to have stopped bleeding, but it still throbbed in a consistent rhythm, constantly reminding him of its existence. He’d used his jacket’s inner lining as a makeshift bandage and it seemed to work so far as long as he didn’t overexert himself. 

The dizziness from the combination of blood loss, physical exertion, and hunger seemed to hit him altogether once the initial adrenaline died down. 

As each minute went by, doubt crept into his consciousness. Maybe the place wasn’t the right location. His heart sank a little at the thought of failure. Every stakeout was a gamble in this profession. One false move combined with bad luck was all that it’d take to ruin everything, despite the amount of effort one put into it. Perhaps his world wasn’t very different from Asami’s after all. 

Leaning his head against the wall, Akihito let his thoughts drift freely. The sore back, Asami’s scent still on his body, and remnants of their lovemaking all reminded him that it was only a short time ago that he was still with the other man. 

Strangely enough, Asami was both the last person and the first person he’d want to see right now. His own feelings seemed to reflect that paradox. He knew he wouldn’t be able to escape Asami’s wrath, and looking at his current state, ragged, dirty, and injured; Asami wouldn’t hold back on criticizing his career choices. It was the same argument every time and he’d be arguing back with the same fierce determination. But the other part of him wanted to ignore everything and take comfort in the other man’s warmth, as if Asami’s presence was enough to bring him solace. Since when did Asami take over such a special place in his heart? And he suddenly wondered whether it was the same for Asami. 

The distant sound of a car engine interrupted his thoughts and his eyes snapped to the source. A black car with tinted glass drove to the center of the open space and parked there. Akihito wasn’t sure if the person was just arrogant, careless, or inexperienced. A smart person would park in a more inconspicuous place and out of view from prying eyes. He was about to snap a picture of it when a gray van showed up, followed by another gray van. ‘What the hell? Did they bring the whole gang?’ 

The two vans parks just behind the first car and nothing happened for about a minute or two. Then suddenly the light pole a few feet away lit up as if someone had turned it on, something Akihito wasn’t expecting. An abandoned factory shouldn’t have any working main power source. Maybe the place only appeared abandoned on the surface and there was more to it that he’d missed. His mind raced to theories of underground base of operations and designated gang hideouts. He dreaded the idea that he might have unknowingly walked into the lion’s den like an idiot. ‘Shit’ 

His heart sped up at the realization, but his hand still held a firm grip on the camera. He lifted it up and snapped away. It was either do or die. He already came this far.

A short man with glasses in business suit stepped out of the black car, most likely Murata Seiichi. Then a group of ten to fifteen men in black suits, probably from Matsuda-gumi, exited their vans en masse. Akihito zoomed in on the short man and snapped away, but he only got profile shots. 

“Come on and turn some more, you glasses bastard,” Akihito muttered under his breath. 

His heart was now racing, maybe from the thrill of finally capturing his target through the viewfinder, the adrenaline rush mingled with the fear of getting caught, or a combination of all of them. He didn’t know. His only focus was to get the best shots and to make them count. 

A well-built man of average height stepped out from the group of black suits to greet Murata. They stood face to face, but kept their distance. And then in a flash of a moment, Akihito saw his golden chance, Murata turned his face toward the camera just enough for the perfect shot. The lighting wasn’t perfect, but it was more than he could ask for. 

“Gotcha,” Akihito grinned in triumph.

He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice the figure behind him. A hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder and he flinched instinctively, ready to turn around in full defensive mode as his mind raced through a bunch of ways to escape. 

Once Akihito was fully facing his attacker though, the other man shot an arm out to cover his mouth and he bit into it hard, but the hand didn’t recoil. Surprised by the unexpected outcome, he tried to push away from the other hand that kept his shoulder pinned to the wall, but a familiar voice made him stop.

“Takaba,” the voice was firm and commanding.

He’d heard this voice only once or twice before, but if there was one thing Akihito was good at, it’d be distinguishing people’s voices and he was sure he knew this one.

He stopped struggling and stared back at the man still hidden in the shadows with a bewildered expression, his eyes searching for clue to confirm his guess. The man responded by retracting his own arm. 

“No-Nojima-san?” 

“We have to get out of here. Now.” 

“No. I need to get more pic--”

“Takaba,” the voice said again and the man stepped toward him. Under the dim moonlight, he could make out the recognizable features of the older man, white hair, grey trench coat, and the usual serious expression; though there was a hint of worry and fear in those eyes.

“I know you won’t listen to me and I can’t physically drag you out of here without making a ruckus, but this time I’m asking you to trust me. We need to leave before it’s too late,” Nojima said with fear now evident in his voice. 

The detective had never directly interfered with any of his stakeouts before, mostly hovering nearby, but never stepping in like this. He gulped at the implication that something must be serious enough to unnerve the older man so much. 

Nojima took Akihito’s lack of protest as understanding and he grabbed the younger man’s arm and dragged him along.

They only managed to walk a few steps before Akihito faltered a little and almost fell forward if it wasn’t for the iron grip on his arm. The sudden movement must have opened his wound again evident from sharp pain in his knee. 

“Wait! My leg.” 

Nojima stopped and turned back to him.

“I hurt it earlier,” Akihito confessed.

The older man was silent for a few seconds, as though to think over something before speaking again. “Hang on to me. I’m sorry, Takaba, but you’ll have to endure it. We don’t have much time left.”

As they strode across the room, the noisy sounds of glasses breaking could be heard underneath their weight and Akihito accidentally kicked a bottle. It rolled into a bigger pile and made an obnoxiously loud clang. Nojima seemed unfazed by it and continued to drag him out of the apartment. 

Once they reached the stairs, they practically raced down it. Every descent made Akihito’s wound burn as it rubbed against his jeans and the throbbing increased in intensity. 

More glasses crunched beneath them, though not as loud as they were muffled by the carpet. He was surprised people haven’t been alerted to them yet.

By the time they made it out the building, Nojima stopped to scan around. All Akihito could see was pitch black. It was both comforting and unsettling knowing the veil of the night was their only cover, but at the same time their enemies could be lurking from any corner.

“Come. This way,” the older man instructed.

They backtracked down the pathway and into the alley that Akihito came out of earlier. A few steps in and he could hear footsteps and voices shouting from behind them.

“Where?” a deep voice shouted.

“I heard noises coming from the building over there,” another voice confirmed. 

“Go!” the deep voice shouted again.

More footsteps and shouting echoed behind him, but Akihito couldn’t make out what they were saying anymore as he entered deeper into the alley’s matrix.

“Nojima-san. Can you at least tell me who we’re running from?” Akihito whispered, afraid someone could hear them. 

The detective didn’t answer and only picked up the pace. 

After a while, he let go of Akihito’s arm and answered, “Matsuda-gumi’s men. You really got yourself deep in the mud this time kid.” It was the older man’s usual style of sarcasm, except Akihito could only hear the seriousness and not the sarcasm. 

They continued to round corners after corners, following the numerous twists and turns of the alleys, only occasionally stopping and hugging the wall to listen for pursuers.

Akihito followed Nojima diligently because the other man seemed to know what he was doing. There was an air of confidence about him like he knew the alleys very well. He was suddenly tempted to ask the detective how the man had found him, but decided against it. 

They continued to alternate between walking and running until detective stopped abruptly and Akihito almost crashed into the man’s back. 

“Nojima-san?”

The older man didn’t answer. After a while, he spoke up again, though he sounded just as out of breath as Akihito was, “I thought I heard someone. Hurry!”

They rounded another corner and barely a few seconds later, Akihito could hear a shout from above them, probably from one of the buildings.

“Over here!” 

_‘Fuck!’_

And without a word, Nojima grabbed his arm again and they made a desperate sprint toward the end of the alley, the camera still hung around Akihito’s neck bobbled up and down carelessly, and his heart pounded against his chest so hard he thought it was going to burst open. 

They managed to exit the alley and Akihito realized they were back on the main street. Nojima didn’t make any attempt to move again, so Akihito took the short respite gratefully as he gasped for air. He used the jacket’s sleeve to wipe away the thick coat of sweat on his forehead, which caused his bangs to clump together and block his vision.

Hardly five seconds went by before Akihito could hear an array of angry shouts and hurried footsteps racing toward them and his head instinctively snapped to their direction, but something else was also accompanying them. 

Several bullets flew past him and hit a nearby brick wall instead. He could barely register what just happened when he suddenly felt his arm wrenched forward by Nojima, breaking him from his dazed state and they began to run again. The solid grip on his arm was becoming painful.

“Where…going?” Akihito managed to say in between breaths.

“My car,” came the short reply from the detective. Akihito stole a quick glance at the older man. The man could surely run for his age.

They were heading in the opposite direction of the Vespa. He didn’t want to abandon his scooter, but the urgent situation left him no choice. He mentally promised to come back for it, hopefully in one piece if he ever made it out of here alive. 

A few more short sprints and Akihito could see a glimmer of hope as Nojima’s car came into view. As they closed the distance to the car just across the street, strong arms suddenly shoved him into a nearby alley and then behind a large smelly stack of boxes. 

Realizing it was Nojima, Akihito was about to say something when the other man covered his mouth again. “Shh!”

The detective wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were searching for something at the alley’s entrance. The grim expression on Nojima’s face told Akihito that they were far from safety even if their only chance to escape was less than 15 feet away.

The shouts were getting closer and coming from all directions. 

“Listen, no matter what happens, don’t leave until help arrive. You have to live, Takaba!” Those were the detective’s last words before the man dashed out of the alley and made a run for the car.

Akihito was about to follow him in protest when several deafening shots rang out and he saw the detective collapse on his knees only few feet from the car. Akihito stood frozen in the darkness in disbelief as his mind tried to process the sudden turn of event, and it wasn’t until the group of men zooming past the alley’s entrance that he finally snapped back to reality. He ducked behind the stack of boxes again, keeping out of view. 

Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes to regain his composure, but the task was proving difficult. As comprehension dawned on him, he opened his eyes again and stared into the darkness. Even if they made it to the car, they would’ve been easily gunned down. These men seemed to adopt the policy of shoot first and ask later. They were outnumbered and unarmed, so the detective used himself as bait so Akihito could escape.

But Akihito couldn’t do that. He didn’t want anyone to die because of him. No. Not like in Hong Kong again. Not like this when he was the one that got into this mess. Steeling his resolve, Akihito willed himself to look again. 

He could see a group of men in suits surrounded the fallen detective. He looked over to the body on the ground and noticed that the older man was still moving, which meant he was still alive. 

And then the owner of the deep voice from earlier stepped out to command something to the group and with a flick of his wrist, the others quickly dispersed into different directions. Only two men stayed behind with the leader, one of them a bald guy who kept a gun pointed at Nojima and the other, a hairier man of chunky stature, which Akihito nicknamed Gorilla.

Akihito crept closer to get a better view, but not enough to reveal his location. His eyes widened in recognition when he saw the leader’s face. It was the same man he saw through the viewfinder earlier as he could recognize the long scar on the man’s neck and the tattoos sticking out of the half opened shirt.

“Well look what we have here. If it isn’t the ex-police chief Nojima-san. And what would a proud man like yourself be doing here…gracing us humble folks with your presence?” the leader said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Aniki, let’s shoot him,” Baldy sneered.

“Not yet Takeshi. Don’t be rude to our special guest.” The leader circled his prey with a gun in his hand. Nojima sat up with one hand cupping what looked like a shoulder wound. 

When the detective refused to respond, Gorilla stepped forward and ruthlessly kicked his stomach and the older man grunted in pain. Watching the scene made Akibito’s blood boil and he tensed in anger, his jaws clenched tightly in response. The urge to run out and beat the shit out of those assholes overwhelmed him and he held it back with all his willpower when he thought his action might get Nojima killed instead. 

“Nojima-san. Shouldn't you be babysitting Asami's whore or is retirement making you itch for some action? I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to interfere with our affairs again.” The leader leaned over and smacked the detective’s face in a mocking gesture. 

“Even if you know the boss, I won't go easy on you.” 

“Tell your boss I’ll see him in hell soon.”

The leader stood up and nonchalantly shot a bullet into the detective, and Akihito couldn’t see Nojima moving anymore.

That was the breaking point for Akihito as the thought of death clouded his judgment and pushed past the threshold of his self-control. The adrenaline rush took over his body as his heart rate shot through the roof, chest tightened, and muscles kicked into action. He rushed out from his hiding spot and dashed forward with lightning speed, despite his knee. 

Using whatever last spurt of energy he had left, he lunged his entire weight into to the leader’s back and caused the man to stumble forward. The two henchmen whirled around in surprise and Baldy took a shot at him, but the bullet only whipped past his ear as he too fell forward.

It wasn’t until his knees hit the hard pavement, taking the full brunt of the fall that Akihito cried out in agony. In his frantic attempt to help Nojima, he’d momentarily forgotten about his own injury. 

His effort did little to help though, when the leader quickly regained his composure and turned to face him. The manic expression on the man’s face almost made Akihito shiver.

“You,” the leader growled at him.

Akihito’s mind told him to get up and fight, but a powerful wave of nausea suddenly overcame him and his vision blurred. He collapsed face down on the ground. In the distance, a series of gunshots rang out in the darkness and more voices were shouting; but he could no longer hear them. His own vision was beginning to fade. The last person he thought of was Asami before succumbing to the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> \- Easter Egg: Akihito looking out the window mirrors Chapter 1’s Asami looking out the window.  
> \- I went back to polish the smut scene in chapter 6 because I felt like it.  
> \- This chapter marks the end of Part 1. "Lolwut? You have parts?" Yes, yes I do. I have an outline too lol. Welcome to part 2! Part 3 will be a secret until we get there :p  
> \- Fixed my summary to reflect where I'm going with the story.  
> \- @ Amelita, I went back to my writing dungeon, so now I get to read your story XD
> 
> Thanks to all who left the sexy kudos. :)


	8. Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Part 2 is the essence of freefalling. Some key information will be revealed in this collection of chapters. It’s really a fascinating experience when the story takes a life on its own as I write. Don’t worry because I’m still following the major plot and subplots. It’s going to get trickier to write from here, but I'll try my best to not make you wait too long. Thank you.
> 
> *Edit: Due to my basement getting flooded, I had to escape to a friend's house. Didn't do a second proof of this chapter. Hope I didn't make too many mistakes.
> 
> ** Warning: Torture

Asami stood in silence, letting the soothing stream of water massage the aching tension in his neck and back, washing away the day's stress. But even the moment of tranquility couldn't detract his attention from the unsettling feeling from deep within as disconcerting thoughts continued to plague his mind. The foul stench of blood and the image of his dead, loyal subordinates remained imprinted in his memory. And they'd continue to haunt him because of his lack of foresight and prudence in his haste to figure out Takamura's game. 

But an enemy like Takamura was the epitome of unpredictable. A man with a callous nature and twisted sense of justice. Asami would've deemed him an equal if it wasn't for his reckless personality. Bloodthirsty and on a rampage to satisfy his delusional vendetta, Takamura was a train wreck in slow motion, fearless and always challenging death. Fighting someone who wasn't afraid of death and had nothing to lose could only result in loss from both sides, and he wasn't about to sacrifice anymore of his men. 

No. Asami wouldn't allow that to happen again. Waiting for his enemy to make a move first was a careless mistake that had cost him immensely. He'd vowed to avenge their deaths and he'd keep that promise. He wasn't about to let all his efforts go down the drain, but why was he hesitating in the first place?

Asami wasn't one to dwell on the past or live his life in self-blame, but that was something he told himself and others. At the moment, all he could feel was guilt and a personal sense of responsibility over his men. Whether or not the _Old Fox_ knew about the infiltration within his organization, Asami was unsure. He knew he was playing a dangerous gamble. The thought that he could've done more to save his men did cross his mind. He should've put a stop on the operation when the risks far outweighed the benefits, but he didn't. Instead, fueled by arrogance and a lofty sense of invulnerability, he'd ordered them to stay within the hornet's nest when all that awaited them was a gruesome death. 

It was true he'd climbed his way to the top after years of toiling away in the dirt and grime of the underworld, but none of it was through his own efforts alone. Invincibility required an equally powerful foundation built on trust, faith, and loyalty. All of which must be justifiably earned. Even a powerful king drew most of his power from the respect of his soldiers. If done right, they would follow you to the ends of the earth. Such men, even few in numbers, could be an unstoppable force strong enough to fight against a hundred less worthy men. 

Asami knew that, but doubt compelled him to act irrationally any time Akihito was part of the picture. He'd crush anyone who'd dare to thwart him or undermine his organization and his men would gladly carry out his bidding for those goals. But was it justifiable to ask the same of his men to protect Akihito? Twice, he'd jump into the line of fire to save Akihito; and on multiple occasions, putting himself in certain danger for the sake of someone not even associated with the organization. As a leader, such behavior was irresponsible and reckless. 

Call it a whim or an ill-advised decision on his part when he pulled Akihito into this world to placate his selfish desires and to mark the other as his. He'd thought nothing more of their relationship. With Akihito's brazen nature, stubborn will, and uncanny knack for getting into trouble; there might be a day when he could no longer protect both him and Akihito. If something were to happen to him, what would become of Akihito?

And with that final thought, Asami no longer wanted to think anymore as he withdrew again into his hardened exterior, telling himself there was no need for unnecessary fear. He stepped out of the shower only to be greeted with the loud, incessant noise of his cell phone ringing furiously somewhere on the other side of the bathroom door. In fact, he'd heard the damn thing about ten minutes ago, but chose to ignore it to relish in his moment of peace.

Although after exiting the bathroom, Asami could recognize the familiar ringtone of his secretary, Kirishima. The man was more than capable of handling things on his own when Asami needed to be alone, but from the way the things looked; it must've been urgent enough. _'What could've happened during the twenty something minutes I was in the shower?'_

Asami received his answer the moment he stepped into the master bedroom, the red light of warning blared again in the back of his mind like it did yesterday as he stood not far from the bed, slightly vexed at his discovery. He knew Akihito long enough to be sure that after three or four rounds of sex, the other was physically incapable of moving and usually passed out by the third round. Finding the bed empty did throw him off guard, and something told him Akihito wasn't in the penthouse either.

Asami picked up the phone from the nightstand which immediately stopped ringing. Thirteen total missed calls from three different callers: one from Nojima, four from Suoh, and the rest from Kirishima. With knitted brows, he briskly answered the phone when it started ringing again.

"Asami."

“Asami-sama, we have a problem.”

"What happened?" 

"Nojima contacted me earlier. He's trailing Takaba right now. From what he told me, Takaba might be heading to the same neighborhood as Matsuda-gumi's old hideout." 

Asami's eye twitched in response to the news. Kirishima and Suoh were supposed to pick him up in about ten minutes to carry out a planned ambush at the same location. For an investigative journalist like Akihito to approach that area at this hour… _‘Could Akihito have known about the meeting between Matsuda-gumi’s men and Murata Seiichi?’_ How Akihito knew about it was beyond him. 

"Tell Nojima to keep following Akihito and not let him out of his sight .Once he's there, stop him."

"Asami-sama, our men are already stationed at their assigned locations and waiting on your order. I've taken the liberty to head there first without you. Suoh should be waiting for you when you're ready."

"Be vigilant, Kirishima. The enemy is dangerous."

"Yes, sir."

\--------------------------------------------

Suoh stole a quick glance at his boss through the rear-view mirror. Asami-sama haven’t said a word since entering the car, but he knew that the boss' seemingly calm composure was only a deceptive front. To say that the crime lord was furious would be a gross understatement. The deadly and menacing aura was practically radiating from his pores, as if the man was ready to shoot anyone in sight. 

The information about the meeting was the last crucial intel from their infiltration efforts, something his colleagues had given up their lives for. In normal circumstances, they would never stage a full-scale ambush on Matsuda-gumi with so little information to work on. Asami-sama was usually a level-headed boss, always cautious, perceptive, and calculating. The incident this morning must've been the final trigger to the boss' resolve. The entire operation would be, in a way, a symbolic gesture and an answer to Takamura's taunt.

And now that Takaba Akihito was somehow caught in the fray again, Suoh wondered whether his boss' sanity would be intact by the morning. When it comes down to anything involving the photographer, Asami-sama had the tendency to become fiercely possessive, as if dominated by a second personality. Sometimes disregarding rational thoughts and logic and letting his patience evaporate into thin air. Granted, those who didn't know the boss well wouldn't be able to tell by the subtle differences in the man's behavior. Given the chance, they'd realized they were too late to escape that overbearing pressure. And pressure was exactly what Suoh was feeling while driving the man. 

Kirishima was better at handling Asami-sama's volatile moods. Even after years of serving Asami, Suoh was still unable to look at the man in the eye whenever the other was in a foul mood, despite his own bigger stature and tough appearance. The sunglasses helped somewhat, but wearing them now would make him look like an idiot. 

The bodyguard sighed.

"Suoh." 

Suoh straightened up immediately as if his name was accompanied by an invisible whiplash.

"I suggest you pick up the speed."

"Yes, sir." 

\--------------------------------------------

"Kirishima-san."

"Where is he?"

"We're not sure. He entered the alleys before we got to him."

 _'Damn.'_ Kirishima dialed the detective's number, but the call didn't connect; something wasn't right. The man didn't pick up any of his earlier calls either. Was it intentional or was the man unable to answer because of the precarious situation they were in? 

Kirishima pushed up his glasses as he looked out into the gloomy night sky. From his vantage point, the rooftop of a building not far from the main road, he scanned the vast number of buildings in the area. Sitting right in the center of them all was the abandoned factory, the core of Matsuda-gumi's former base of operations. What made Matsuda-gumi such a formidable enemy seven years ago was this very impenetrable fortress with its equally troublesome network of alleys. Of all the places for Takaba to wander into, he just had to walk right into the fox's den. And he couldn't risk sending his men deeper into the alley's matrix to retrieve the photographer. 

The situation had taken a turn for the worst. Their plan to ambush Matsuda-gumi's men on the main road was no longer plausible without risking Takaba getting caught in the fire fight. It was such a sensible plan too since the main road was the only way to the factory, and attacking from the shadows would give them a greater advantage with potentially minimum casualty on their side. Asami-sama wanted to capture Matsuda-gumi's second-in-command, Fujita Tadao, alive since he seemed to be Takamura's only confidant and link to the outside world. They had been targeting Fujita for some time now, but the bastard was just as slippery as Takamura.

"Kirishima-san. We found the Vespa. It's parked a few blocks from here."

"What about Nojima's car?"

"On the other side, not far from the main road."

Slightly irritated that he had to abandon such a good plan, the secretary barked his orders to the men nearby. Nojima most likely parked on the main road aiming for a quick escape. Kirishima could only hope that the detective was with Akihito by the time he got there, assuming both escaped the alleys alive.

True enough, as Kirishima and his men approached Nojima's car, they could spot the two figures frantically running as gunshots echoed from behind them, pursuers hot on their trail. From the other side of the main road, his men were carefully hidden in the alleys. The darkness helped conceal their locations; but at the same time, working against them in this situation. If the detective and Akihito could make it to the car and escape, Kirishima and his men would be freer to take action, eliminating the chances of stray bullets from friendly fire. 

And for a flicker of a moment, Kirishima lost sight of them as they got closer to the car. A few seconds later a figure ran out from an alley and several shots rang out. 

"Kirishima-san," one of the men whispered.

The secretary didn't respond, eyes focused intently on the collapsed figure, looking for familiar clues. More men came from different directions. One of them ran past Kirishima and he ducked his head deeper into the alley, his body flattened against the wall. 'That was close.'

It seemed Kirishima made the right decision as he watched the group of men in suits clustered around the fallen figure. Less than a minute later, they dispersed, leaving only three men behind.

“Well, look what we've got here. If it isn’t the ex-police chief Nojima-san. And what would a proud man like yourself be doing here…gracing us humble folks with your presence?” 

The guy talking must be the leader, most likely Takamura's second-in-command, Fujita Tadao. 

Kirishima breathed out in relief, realizing the fallen figure wasn't the photographer. _'But where is Takaba?'_

The detective came from one of the alleys, which meant the photographer could still be nearby. It didn't take long for Kirishima to get his answer. After a second gunshot, another lone figure ran out from an alley and tackled Fujita from behind. From Kirishima's point of view, there was only one person foolish enough pull such a stunt and that was his cue for action. He gave the signals to his men. 

In a matter of minutes, the two sides exchanged a barrage of bullets, hitting buildings, cars, and almost everything in the vicinity. In the midst of the chaos, Kirishima crept closer to the two figures lying on the main road and hid himself behind a van. Some stray bullets ricocheted off of the lamp post and hit the ground a few inches from where Takaba was.

 _'Tch'_ Kirishima ordered the men to stop. Fujita, who was taking cover behind a car, used that opportunity to make his escape into the opposite side of the road and slipped into the alleys. A few of their men ran after him in pursuit, but Kirishima stopped them.

"Leave him. This is their territory. We don't need to get ourselves killed." 

The secretary and his men approached the four bodies on the ground. Two of them were Fujita's underlings, one dead and the other, a bald man, still alive and cradling a leg wound. A subordinate kicked the gun away from the wounded man.

"Guess you're the unlucky one. I wouldn't try to piss off Asami-sama if I were you," another subordinate spoke up. 

The secretary knelt in front of Takaba and inspected the younger man. No bullet wounds, except for what looked like really nasty gash on the knee. 

"Kirishima-san, we really need to take him to the hospital."

Kirishima shifted his gaze to Nojima. The detective was much worse off than the photographer. The man's coat and shirt were drenched in blood from the chest and shoulder wounds. It'd be a miracle if he somehow survived this ordeal. 

The secretary sighed before taking out his phone to dial his boss. It was going to be a long night.

\--------------------------------------------

"Asami-sama," Kirishima said, bowing to his boss.

"How is he?" Asami strode past his secretary, heading straight for the car where Akihito was. A subordinate stood on standby and opened the car's door as he approached. 

"He's fine, sir. It seemed he injured his leg while escaping. I was going to take him to the hospital, but I figured you'd want to see him first."

Asami peered into the car and inspected the passed out figure on the backseat. He took in every detail of Akihito’s physical state while his secretary updated him on everything that transpired. The barely contained anger just seconds ago slowly faded as he continued to examine the photographer. Akihito looked exhausted and worn out, like he'd just crawled out of a cave or a very dingy alley to be accurate. The messy locks of hair clumped together by sweat, small bruise near the left cheekbone, another bruise on the left temple, shades of grime and dirt on the face and neck, and scratch marks on the hands were evidence of Akihito’s little venture. His eyes narrowed as they trailed to the tattered and bloodied jeans.

After a few more seconds assessing Akihito’s condition, Asami straightened himself up again. As much as he wanted to climb into the backseat and cradle Akihito in his arms, there were other things more pressing at hand. His men were watching him. The ambush didn't go as planned and their key target had escaped, and as much as he wanted to deny it, Akihito played a major role in that failure. Kirishima was both a brilliant tactician and efficient strategist. His secretary wouldn't let the target escape so easily if it wasn't for Akihito's sake. 

"Nojima?"

The secretary adjusted his glasses, a habit for whenever he was about to deliver bad news. "I sent some men to take him to the nearest hospital, Asami-sama. He was critically injured while trying to save Takaba."

"How bad is he?"

"A serious chest wound, another one in the shoulder, and a third in the leg."

Kirishima watched his boss' expression as he reported the piece of information, and quickly exchanged a knowing look with his friend Suoh who stood not far from where they were. It was truly a close call. Their boss was probably thinking that once again, he almost lost the photographer in yet another dangerous situation.

"We caught one of Fujita's men, sir. He's injured, but he'll live long enough should you choose to interrogate," the secretary said when Asami was silent after a while.

Asami nodded in acknowledgement. "Take Akihito to the hospital to get his wound treated and then back to the penthouse. I don't trust the hospital's security," Asami paused, "and look into how Akihito found out about this meeting in the first place.”

The secretary bowed. "I understand, sir."

Kirishima already planned to investigate even if Asami-sama didn't order him to. Whoever told Takaba about the meeting had a deep connection within Matsuda-gumi. It'd be better if he could get the information through Takaba himself, but Kirishima knew the photographer would rather die than give up his informant's name, another one of the boy's traits that frustrated him to no end. 

The secretary sighed deeply. Things were never easy with Takaba.

\--------------------------------------------  
Suoh parked the car just right outside of the private warehouse owned by Asami. Although the place was rarely used, except under special circumstances, almost all prisoners who were brought here never lived until the next day. 

Making his way back to open the door for his boss, the bodyguard almost felt pity for the unlucky bastard who was about to face Asami’s wrath. Surely enough, he felt the chill run down his spine as the crime lord stepped out of the car. The man’s dangerous aura was back in full force, the temporary respite he'd had witnessed earlier in the photographer's presence was now gone. 

"Open it," Asami ordered to his subordinates as he lit a cigarette. 

One of the men stepped forward to open the trunk and dragged their captured prisoner out onto the asphalt. The man grunted through the cloth gag as his wounded leg hit the hard surface. 

With a wave of his wrist, Asami ordered his men to proceed without him, and they dragged the wounded prisoner into the warehouse. Suoh stayed behind to watch over his boss. 

After about seven minutes of listening to the cries from within the warehouse, Asami walked into the building to find the prisoner coughing and choking on his own blood, gasping for air on the floor, and head pinned down on the cement floor. It seemed his men did a pretty good job with the warm-up seeing how the man's face was almost unrecognizable. 

"Asami-sama. He's pretty thick-skinned. Should we try a different method?"

Asami made a gesture and his men released the prisoner's head. The wounded man lifted his head and his eyes searched for the crime lord whose face was still half hidden in between the darkness and the dim light from a small overhung lamp.

"Takamura-sama," the prisoner gasped in between breaths, "--will destroy you and your little pet." More blood trickled down the side of his mouth.

But Asami only looked down at the wounded man with cold indifference, his fierce golden orbs shone brightly in the darkness. The cloud of smoke from his cigarette only accentuated that even more so as it enveloped him, giving off the appearance of a demon hidden in the fog. 

"I know exactly how to get men like you to talk," Asami paused, "without wasting a single bullet."

Asami made a small nod to Suoh who turned and flipped a switch somewhere nearby. In a matter of seconds, rows of hanging metal pendant lamps illuminated the entire warehouse. The prisoner squinted at the abrupt invasion of light, stunned by the sudden change.

Two bodyguards then dragged the wounded man to a nearby inclined sit-up bench, positioned him on it, and strapped his upper body to the bench with a belt. Another bodyguard bound his wrists and legs together with duct tape. The man’s confused expression was evident when he looked at Asami with wide eyes through swollen eyelids. 

“Humans have an innate fear of pain, but after reaching a certain point, they become insensitive to it," Asami said before taking a drag of his cigarette. "Pain won't work against men like you seeing how you have a few...battle scars of your own." Asami shifted his gaze to the man’s left hand which had a fair amount of missing joints and entirely missing pinky, the results of Yubitsume.

"Do you know what drowning feels like?" Asami hovered over the prisoner, whose head was resting on the low part of the slanted bench, and watched the man's face lit up in surprise and shock. Clearly, the other had misunderstood what Asami was capable of when the man tried to make him angry earlier. He rarely had to resort to such a crude method of torture, but it'd be the most effective and quickest way to get what he wanted without dirtying his hands.

Taking a step back, Asami allowed his men to proceed and a subordinate placed a cloth towel on the prisoner’s face. Another held a gallon of water above the man’s head, poised to pour the liquid on the towel. If done right, very little water should enter the victim’s mouth or nose, but the sensation of water current on the face would cause the body to act in reflex, effectively creating the horrifying feeling of drowning. Such a method of torture could make the victim feel utterly helpless and constantly on the verge of dying. Repeated exposure usually had a profound effect on the victim’s psychological state, enough to break even the toughest kinds of men.

Asami motioned to his subordinates and the other man began to slowly pour the water. In less than a few seconds, the prisoner began to gag in reflex, make choking sounds, and thrash against his restraints. 

Asami watched with a stoic expression as his men held the other’s head firmly on the bench. The torture was intermittent to make the victim believe that he was safe before being subjected to it all over again. And after the fifth time, Asami held out a hand for his men to stop.

Once the towel was lifted from his face, the prisoner continued to move his head from side to side, eyes dazed and mouth mumbling something incoherent, all signs of someone trapped in a semi-shocked state.

“Nnnn--no--no,” the man rambled on, “stop. No---no….here--talk.”

Asami waited until the man was lucid enough before speaking. “If you answer all my questions truthfully, I’ll consider ending your suffering. If not, we can continue this if you wish.”

“No--nuuh. Talk,” the prisoner pleaded in a hoarse voice, “please. Stop. I’ll talk.”

“What is your boss trying to do?”

“I don’t know. All I was told--” the man swallowed, “--was to follow Fujita-aniki to the meeting.”

“And Murata Seiichi’s involvement in all of this?”

“We took--no--kidnapped the witness. Murata’s son drove into another car and killed some family and then escaped.”

Asami’s eyes narrowed on the man. “So you’re using Murata as a pawn to get your boss out of prison.” 

“Yeah. Boss said the meeting was to finalize the agreement. Fujita-aniki was supposed to hand over the video recording of the witness’ confession to Murata, but we got disrupted when our men reported a lurker in the area. Your little pet.”

“What is Takamura trying to do with Takaba?”

“I don’t know.”

Feeling impatient, Asami gestured to his men and they placed the wet towel on the prisoner’s face again. The man panicked and shouted blindly into the towel, “No! No, please. I really don’t know. Boss said to keep a watch on your pet, but nothing more.”

“How long have you been watching Takaba?”

“Two months no--ever since you came back from Hong Kong,” the man confessed, relieved that the towel was off of him again. 

Asami steeled his features before asking the final question, his golden eyes a shade darker. “The group sent to execute my men this morning. Were you a part of them?”

The prisoner paled at the question, eyes suddenly widened with fear and anxiety. He gulped as the atmosphere felt colder than it was a mere second ago and thick tension filled the air. The other men in the warehouse stood in absolute silence waiting on his reply, adding to the somber mood and gravity of the question.

“I--I was ordered by the Boss. Please, I had no choice. He’d kill us if we disobey,” the prisoner croaked.

Asami’s gaze bored into the prisoner’s eyes and the man flinched in response. He knew a bullet to the head would’ve been a better alternative at this point. 

“Do whatever you like with him and then get rid of the body. I want him dead by morning,” Asami ordered before turning to walk out of the warehouse with Suoh following closely behind. 

\--------------------------------------------

Kirishima looked away from his laptop’s screen for a moment to the sleeping figure across from him. They were in the limo instead of the sedan because Asami-sama insisted on the switch. So Kirishima took the opportunity to do some work while they were on their way back to the penthouse.

Throughout the whole visit to the hospital, the photographer remained asleep or in a semi-conscious state. After a wound disinfection, 13 stitches, and a dressing for safe measures; they rushed out of the ER. Kirishima had a bodyguard carry the unconscious, pants-less, and still hooked to an IV bag Takaba back to the limo. He would’ve laughed at the comical scene himself if it wasn’t for the serious nature of the situation. He also left some of his men at the hospital with Nojima, who was still in surgery, just in case Fujita decided to go on a vengeance spree. Takamura’s men, just like their boss, tend to be a spiteful bunch after all. 

Looking at Takaba again, he mused on whether he should’ve grabbed a blanket to cover up the boy earlier. If the photographer knew of what transpired… Before he could finish the thought, the buzzing of a cellphone caught his attention.

“Asami-sama.”

“How is he?”

Kirishima stole a glimpse of the boy again before answering, “He’s still asleep. The doctor said he’s just exhausted from malnutrition, dehydration, overexertion, and blood loss. He’ll be fine after a good rest.”

A pause on the other side of the line.

“What about Nojima’s condition?”

“He’s still in critical condition. I’ve requested the hospital to inform me once the surgery is over.”

Another pause.

“Asami-sama?”

“I’m already at the penthouse.”

“We should arrive in about 5 minutes, sir.”

“Drive around for another 25 minutes. I want to let him sleep.”

“I understand, sir,” the secretary said before disconnecting, trying his best to hide the surprise in his voice. It was one of those rare moments he’d only get to see because of Takaba, the only person who could draw out the boss’ softer side. 

Taking off his suit jacket, Kirishima looked at the the younger man across from him again, eyes softened with understanding. _‘If you hold such a place in Asami-sama's heart, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to protect you when the time comes.’_ He draped the jacket over the boy’s hips. Takaba stirred a little, but remained asleep, seemingly distraught by something in his dreams. 

 

\--------------------------------------------  
* Twenty five minutes later *

Asami opened the car door to find a half-naked sleeping photographer. Both his eyebrows lifted in surprise. He looked over to Kirishima, but the secretary only adjusted his glasses in response. 

A small smile graced his expression as he wrapped Akihito in his black topcoat, and lifted the young man into his arms. Akihito eyes flickered open for a moment before closing again. 

“Asami?” Akihito whispered. 

Asami stopped and waited for the younger man to relax in his embrace before moving. 

“Thank you, Kirishima,” Asami said before walking away with Suoh trailing only two steps behind him, IV bag in hand and lifted over his shoulder. 

Kirishima only bowed to his boss’ back in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 
> 
> * Yubitsume: A ritual of cutting off one’s fingers, mostly one joint at a time, to atone for violation of the code of conduct. (Yakuza tradition)  
> * ER - Emergency Room  
> * IV - Intravenous (solution)  
> \-----------------------------  
> \- Events in chapters 7 and 8 occur at the same time, but through different POVs to give you a different perspective and much more (hopefully)  
> \- Writing torture is outside of my comfort zone, so it's actually toned down a lot. I used a water-related one because I have a real water phobia, so writing it was quite erm…  
> \- Gave Kirishima some action in this one. Plus, a lot of contrasts in this chapter.  
> \- Bought a new keyboard, a chiclet one! I'm in heaven. My old one bothered my wrists. 
> 
> \- So I just found out that the guest review option was off at AO3 by accident and it took me 8 chapters to realize that. *facepalm* -_- I apologize. I do welcome all feedbacks good or bad....even if they're criticisms. I can only hope to become a better writer by listening to them. Thanks! (and thanks for your kudos)


	9. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito and Asami finally have their long-overdue conversation...maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Writer’s block sucks (despite having like 18 pages of stuff planned out). I went heavy symbolism and foreshadowing with the first two sections (Felt like it). So, here be chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Heavy adult themes. Proofed once. I was tired.
> 
> * Note: First section may seem confusing, but just keep reading. Believe in the force!

"Nojima-ojiisan, how's your coffee?" Akihito greeted the detective gleefully, amused when the man tensed for a second, caught off-guard by the surprise. Not caring if he was welcomed, Akihito sat down at the little table opposite the detective and waved the waiter over. 

“Iced mocha latte with heavy cream please,” Akihito flashed the female waiter an eager smile, not hiding his excitement over sweets. The waiter returned his smile and bowed in acknowledgment before walking away to fill his order. 

"I'm not your old man. Actually, I think I'm your babysitter."

Akihito's bottom lip jutted out into a small pout. "Why does everyone think they're my babysitter? I'm almost 24 you know."

"Maybe because you're an almost-24-year-old brat," Nojima took a sip of his dark coffee, "and spare me the family drama."

"Really? But I like you, Nojima...erm…"

"Norio. Nojima Norio. How can you keep forgetting my first name so easily?" The detective sighed, instantly reminded of the time the kid tried to coax him into revealing his full name. Akihito once offered to behave for a week in exchange for Nojima's personal details. Of course, the detective refused, so the brat lifted his wallet for a business card. _‘This kid, is he a journalist or a thug?’_

"Yes, Nojima Norio-san," Akihito cheekily repeated the name.

"You gonna run today?" The older man said curtly, not in the mood for a prank by some brat. He'd been sitting at the cafe for at least 2 hours waiting for Akihito to finish his photo shoot. 

The bluntness made Akihito chuckle. "I'll let you rest today." He watched Nojima's expression change to relief before delivering the blow, "But only on one condition."

_‘This brat.’_

"What is it?" Nojima grunted, shaking his head for believing otherwise even for a second. He should've expected it.

"Information. You used to be a cop right? I’m sure you have some connections within the police force. If you help me, then no therapy today," Akihito teased and watched as the older man made a frown of disapproval.

“I thought you have your own sources in the police. Why do you need me?”

“I used to...they didn’t turn out very well,” Akihito muttered, body sagging slightly against the chair, remembering the blow of betrayal Yamazaki gave him. 

Nojima didn’t miss the younger man’s change in manner and felt his own defense falter, giving way to the kid's pace as usual, despite his initial resistance. He relaxed in his chair. "So, what do you want to know?”

Akihito looked at the man curiously. He didn’t think Nojima would accept his proposal so easily, but it was too good of a chance to pass up. He spent the next ten or fifteen minutes rambling on about some rumors he’d heard about some of Tokyo’s biggest names. 

Nojima only listened to Akihito patiently, not saying anything until the photographer stopped talking.

"You know, kid...for someone who's full of life’s enthusiasm, you certainly have a death wish by choosing this line of work."

"There's so much irony in that, especially coming from you, Nojima-san,” Akihito gibed playfully. After all, the man was working for Asami, Tokyo's number one bastar---err crime lord---well, Akihito wasn't sure what Asami was anymore.

"That mouth of yours might get you killed someday too."

"I prefer to call it living on the edge,” Akihito said, eyes lit up with delight when the waiter returned with the latte. "Thanks." 

The detective scoffed, "That's the same thing."

"Really? I just thought it's fancier to put it that way. Ooh they gave me extra chocolate syrup."

"Kid. Don't dig too deep because you won't like the end of that tunnel. You might have a lot of dirt on them, but they're standing on top for so long for a reason. They won't sit quietly if you try to hamper their plans," the detective warned. Though Akihito was too distracted by his drink as he took a sip of the dark liquid, reveling in the delicious mix of sweet and bitter taste in his mouth.

“But it’s a good thing I’ll have you there to look after me, right?”

\--------------------------------------------

_‘But it’s a good thing I’ll have you there to look after me, right?’_

The words echoed in Akihito's mind as he slowly opened his eyes, seeing nothing and everything in the darkness that engulfed the room. As if trapped in between the dream and his reality, he found himself unable to move. If only it'd been just a dream, then everything would've been fine, but his heart knew and it ached knowingly, the unease lodged deep within only felt heavier.

He laid still, listening to the light tapping of rain drops hitting against glass surface, finding solace in the peacefulness of the rhythmic pattern, and letting it soothe his nerves. After a while, the voice of someone talking in the distance broke him from his trance-like state, and he unconsciously turned towards its direction. 

As vague memories of the hospital, the car, and then the feeling of being carried by someone began to surface; the voice became more prominent, drawing him forward and anchoring his awareness to reality. He knew he was on a bed, a very familiar one at that, and the faint smell of cologne blended with tobacco was what kept him from bolting upward and panicking in the first place. After losing consciousness in front of three highly dangerous mobsters and held at gunpoint to top it off, he had expected to be standing at death's door along with Nojima. Instead, by some twisted play of fate, he was back at the penthouse, safe and sound where Asami wanted him to be. The realization only made everything seem surreal. It baffled him. 

With a mental sigh, he will his sore muscles to move and somehow managed to sit up. After pushing the duvet away, he immediately noticed the dull sensation on his right arm. He inspected the object with his other hand. _'What the...an IV drip?'_ Unsure of why he needed one to begin with, he fumbled with the cannula, trying to get the damn thing off; but failed miserably. The thing was firmly taped to his arm. Eventually, impatience got the best of him, and he gave it a small yank, albeit carelessly, and the catheter came loose. Ignoring the sensation of warm fluid running down his arm, he swung his legs over the bed and stood up, only to be reminded of the wound on his knee, though it didn't hurt as much as before. 

A sudden breeze caused him to shiver, and he realized he was only in briefs. Using one hand to feel his way along the edge of the bed in the dark, he searched for a night robe, which he knew Asami made a habit of leaving somewhere nearby. After finding nothing, he wandered over to a nearby chair and accidentally walked into a one of its corners, hitting the area just below the wound, though he was quick enough to grab onto the chair before losing balance. _'Shit! Why am I always losing to things in the dark?'_ The last thing he wanted was for Asami to find him lying on the floor, weak and helpless, though he was sure he'd accomplished plenty of that while he was unconscious. 

Thankfully, he found one of Asami's dress shirts on the same chair and quickly put it on. It wasn't necessarily the warmest thing, but it was enough, and he found Asami's musky scent somewhat comforting. After mentally cussing at his shitty streak of bad luck some more, he limped out of the master bedroom. The hallway was dark, but the living room's door was left opened. He crept closer and stood in the doorway, half-squinting at the brightness.

Asami was standing in front of the window with his back turned to him, and seemingly distracted enough by the phone conversation to not notice his presence. Asami was immaculately dressed as usual, noting the well-tailored black three-piece suit, dark gray striped tie, and perfectly combed raven hair, a stark contrast to what he had witnessed yesterday. The man was back to power and wealth personified. Compared to his own exposed and vulnerable state, he almost laughed at the disparities. How did they end up together, despite the wide gaps in their status and personality? The answer was beyond him. He stood quietly, watching the other man, suddenly feeling incapable of moving forward.

\--------------------------------------------

"Asami-sama, I've done as you ordered and settled with the authorities. It won't be traced back to us as long as we kept our end of the deal, though they wanted a little bit more money this time," Kirishima said on the other end of the line.

"It doesn't matter. Just give them what they asked for. I don't want the police asking about Akihito or Nojima. I've had enough on my plate already."

"I understand, sir. I did some digging into Takaba's phone records, but couldn't find anything that stood out. Of the three different numbers, one is from an orphanage which he recently did a charity event for. The second belongs to the chief editor of the small magazine he's been freelancing for. I checked the editor's background just in case, and he didn't seem to be connected to the Yakuza, let alone Matsuda-gumi. The last number belongs to a journalist from the same magazine."

Asami listened to his secretary's report attentively, trying to make sense of how the hell Akihito knew about last night's meeting; but his mind was drawing a blank. Maybe they were overlooking a key detail somewhere. His thoughts then trailed to the other night when he found Akihito sleeping in front of the computer. The photo of a kid holding Akihito's camera on the computer's screen struck him as peculiar, since Akihito was usually overprotective of his cameras. 

"Look into the orphanage again. The missing link could be there."

Asami could hear his secretary's sigh on the other line and he fully understood why, mutually sharing their frustration. They wouldn't have to do things in such a roundabout way if he could get the information directly from Akihito, but he was also well aware of the photographer's extraordinarily stubborn nature with anything work-related.

"And keep an eye on Murata Seiichi. I sense there's more to his involvement than what it appears to be."

"Regarding your schedule, nothing has changed so far. I've set aside a few reports on your desks, ready for you to look over upon your return."

Asami continued to listen to his secretary's reports on business-related matters, but he didn't miss the presence of someone lurking nearby. He knew Akihito was watching him, but pretended not to notice. He still hadn't decided how to punish the photographer for his little adventure last night yet. What he didn't expect was the sight that greeted him the moment he turned to meet Akihito's gaze. His eyes widened in surprise at the blood-stained sleeve of the white dress shirt Akihito was wearing.

"Kirishima, I'll call you back," he said abruptly and hung up before the other man could protest.

After stalking over to Akihito, who was still staring at him with a dazed expression, he grabbed the other's right wrist and lifted the sleeve to check the source of the blood. 

"Are you an idiot or are you sleep-walking?" Asami scolded, barely hiding his anger, but the harsh tone was enough to wake Akihito out of his stupor. As confused hazel eyes looked up at him, Asami realized that Akihito was still very out of it, as if lost to their reality.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Asami dragged Akihito to the couch and ordered the boy to keep pressure on his arm to stop the bleeding. He then made his way to the bathroom and returned with a medical kit. 

While Asami addressed himself to the task of fixing the damage on Akihito's arm, the photographer studied his every movement curiously. Akihito would usually protest to being treated like a damsel in distress, but he was strangely quiet. The fire that Asami had seen so many time seemed dull in those hazel eyes. It irritated him a little to see Akihito in such a state, but he held back the urge to rile the younger man.

Deciding it was better to let Akihito know the truth, Asami finally broke the silence, "Nojima's surgery went well, but not without a few complications due of his age. He's in the intensive care unit right now, and he'll be there until the doctor deem it's safe for him to be moved into the normal rooms."

Asami watched Akihito's expression as he delivered the news, the younger man's eyes widened in surprise, blinked once, and lips parted slightly as if to say something before shutting again, confirming Asami's own suspicions. From what Kirishima told him, Akihito ran out to save Nojima after the man was shot a third time. 

"I really thought he died right then. Everything was so dark and I couldn't see anything," Akihito said quietly. He closed his eyes, buried his forehead in his hands, and exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding. The bitter weight in his heart slowly loosened its grasp, allowing him to breathe easier for the first time since waking up. 

"It doesn't matter. Let it be a lesson for the next time you decide to jump into a dangerous situation without thinking." Asami reached for his pack of Dunhill and popped a cigarette in his mouth, satisfied that Akihito was a little bit more like his usual self again.

"Asami," Akihito removed his hands to look at the other man, "aren't you going to ask why I went there?" Actually, he was curious how the man found him in the first place, but he'd save that question for Nojima later. If the detective was following him, there was no way Asami didn't know about his whereabouts. 

"Would you have confess if I asked?" Asami said with cool indifference. 

Akihito stared at Asami, puzzled at the unusual show of restraint. He'd expected to be coerced into coughing up information right about now, whether through some form of verbal threat or sex. _'Is he testing me?'_

"Probably not. I don't remember working for you or having to report what I'm doing every time I'm on a job," Akihito challenged, keeping a steady gaze on Asami, never breaking eye contact. 

"I may have let you do as you please outside, but that doesn't give you the license to run around and be reckless. What do you think would've happened if my men weren't there?"

"It was a last minute decision and probably my only chance to get a picture of that politician."

"That politician you're talking about is Murata Seiichi. I don't want you go snooping around him anymore. He's a dangerous man."

Akihito's eyes narrowed. _'Asami...he knew about the meeting. If that's the case...'_

"That abandoned factory. It isn't abandoned at all, isn't it? I thought it was strange for an industrial building like that to sit right in the middle of a residential district."

Asami studied Akihito with an unreadable expression, debating on whether to give in to Akihito's invitation for information or divert the subject. He should be the one asking the questions, but he also should've known better. Akihito was a journalist after all. 

"No, it's a front used to deflect the police's attention. The factory itself used to be under Matsuda-gumi's control. After the place was raided by the police seven years ago, the group moved their main base to a different location. Or that was the assumption." 

"What do you mean?" Akihito's brows furrowed at the implication.

"I had my people in their ranks, but there was never enough concrete evidence to expose their business." Asami stopped short of revealing that he did gather enough information of Matsuda-gumi's other illegal activities, a hidden trump card he'd only use when the situation calls for it. 

"I have a feeling I won't like the answer, but what kind of business are you talking about?" 

Asami took a drag of his cigarette. He pondered thoughtfully on whether to disclose the details. If he withheld them, he wasn't confident Akihito wouldn't try to find the answer himself, despite his recent close encounter with death.

"The kind that'd bring the quickest profits. Every world has its own set of laws. The Yakuza follows a code of conduct that conforms to specific boundaries. Boundaries you don't cross if you want to survive in the business. Matsuda-gumi, under the leadership of a certain man, is known to consistently disregard them."

"Rules? Boundaries? I thought all villains and criminals don't care for them in the first place. Aren't you the same as them? Gaining profits at the expense of others?"

"I wouldn't stoop so low as to resort to those methods," Asami said coldly in response to Akihito's snide accusation. And for a brief moment, Akihito caught the slip in Asami's composure, realizing he'd hit a nerve. 

"You made it sound like they were running some kind of human factory farm."

Akihito was hoping to be told otherwise, but Asami kept his silence. Suddenly afraid of asking the next question, he swallowed dryly. Just how dangerous were they? He thought they were just a bunch of thugs who meddled with guns and drugs and maybe owned a few pachinko parlors.

"It's not true, is it?" Akihito met Asami's gaze.

"It's not far from the truth." Asami observed the photographer's expression change from uncertainty to shock, Akihito's face lost a little bit of its normal color. 

Asami continued, "Female prostitutes who were past their prime age for the business. Male prostitutes who didn't bring enough profits. Children sold by their parents or kidnapped. Where did you think they went? Killed for their organs or body parts, being used as live drug test subjects, and sent to torture chambers for the entertainment of the rich and wealthy were among some of those businesses."

"How can anyone do that to another human being? It's so cruel. This world is all kinds of fucked up." Akihito brought his uninjured knee up to his chest and cradled it, an attempt to calm himself as he digested the information, suppressing his urge to throw up. 

"Asami, if I were captured by them, I'd rather bite my own tongue and die than subject myself to that kind of death."

Asami's hand reached out to cup Akihito's face, guiding Akihito to look into his golden orbs.

"Don't think of useless things because I won't let that happen. You are mine and I protect what's mine. Those who dare to touch you, I will crush them...no matter what the consequences may be," Asami said before claiming Akihito's mouth for a deep kiss. 

Akihito didn't resist the kiss or protest to Asami's declaration of possessiveness like usual. At the moment, he just wanted to feel the other man's touch because for the first time since they were together, there was something unusually reassuring in those words.

Asami didn't break away from the kiss until a while later, leaving Akihito gasping for air, face blushed a crimson shade of red. 

"Bastard, it's like you're trying to kill me every time we kiss."

Asami's lips curved upward into a smirk. He stood up, buttoned his jacket, and straightened out his suit before turning back to Akihito. 

"You're leaving?"

"There are a few things I have to take care of. Just behave and stay home like a good boy and maybe I'll reward you later."

Akihito gave him a dirty look. "I'm not your pet." Somehow, their conversation was back to the same old usual bantering. 

A long pause.

"Maybe." Asami's face displayed an unfamiliar longing expression, as if he was weighing the word carefully. Akihito wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I'll be back before midnight. There's food in the fridge. You should eat to get your strength back," the words rolled off Asami's tongue almost naturally. He suddenly felt like he was talking to a housewife and not Akihito. It was too late to correct it, so he ignored the thought. 

As Asami made his way to the genkan, Akihito hobbled after him. Akihito wasn't sure how to bring up the question he'd been meaning to ask. He breathed in deeply.

"Asami," Akihito waited until the older man turned to face him before continuing, "aren't you angry at me?"

Asami only gave him another unreadable expression before stealing another kiss, a shorter one. 

"Wait, my camera!"

"It's on your desk."

Before he could ask anymore, Asami walked out of the penthouse. A few seconds later, Suoh nonchalantly walked in, stood before the door, and faced him, immovable and impenetrable. Akihito stood bewildered and stared back at the bodyguard, the realization sunk in like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. So cuffing his freedom was the punishment after all.

\--------------------------------------------

"Seiichi, I didn't think you'd visit me in person like this."

"Cut the familiarity. You know why I'm here."

Takamura Michio examined Murata curiously, the other man was more befitting of a mobster than a government dog from his point of view.

"And why are you here? What would a minister of justice be doing here visiting a criminal like me, who's still stuck in his little cell like this?"

"And you'll be staying here longer if you don't hand over the video recording." 

Takamura's eyes narrowed on the smaller man sitting across from him. "Fujita was supposed to take care of that during the meeting. I don't go back on my own words...not with you."

Murata sneered at the statement, "Your boy didn't give me the recording like he was supposed to. We weren't at the meeting location for long before he claimed that someone was watching and gave chase."

Takamura kept his stoned-face expression as he listened to Murata.

"You," Murata paused, "You didn't know Asami Ryuichi ambushed your men last night, didn't you?" The minister gave a mocking laugh. "It was a good thing I got out of there before the whole mess. Now, I got Asami on my back, prying into my business thanks to your incompetent men."

"I suggest you don't make me angry any more than this, Seiichi. My patience could only extend so far...even for you," the yakuza said calmly, but his almost lifeless, gray eyes spoke only of malicious intent. 

Murata pursed his lips at the statement and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. After spending a few seconds thinking over the threat, he stood up. "What do you plan to do now? I don't want to get caught in the feud between you Asami."

"Let me deal with Asami. And as for the recording, you don't have to worry about it as long as you stay true to our agreement." 

Murata cleared his throat. 

"If you keep your end of the bargain, I won't revoke my signature for your release either," Murata said before motioning one of the guards to open the cell door. Takamura silently watched the politician leave.

_'Asami, for you to willingly go to war with me only confirmed that the boy meant more to you than you led on.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Genkan = Japanese version of a foyer (sort off) and used as a place for taking off your shoes.  
> \- Please don't pull your IV out...ever. I've read some stuff on it. Not fun. -_-   
> \- I wrote the scene with Aki's conversation with Nojima a long time ago, but didn't get to use it until now. It's one of my favorite scenes.   
> \- This chapter took me a while because I had to choose one of three paths in my outline. Given Asami's possessive streak, angry sex would be plausible; but my gut told me to go with this one. I feel there's much more depth in this version. I'll save angry sex for a PWP one-shot instead. What do you guys think?  
> \- Thanks! (I want to write more fluffy one shots because if this story...it can get heavy sometimes XD)


	10. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito is sick of house arrest and decides to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bridge chapter. I had evil writer's block for a week and then spent a ridiculously amount of time on this for some reason, but something wonderful came out of it. Nothing like a small epiphany that helped smooth out the unclear transitions in my outline. Fun to write a devious Aki. :D 
> 
> * Warning: Proofed once.

Akihito lounged on his side, dressed only in t-shirt and shorts, and legs propped on Asami's expensive leather sofa. With a blank expression, he stared at the half-finished tub of chestnut and adzuki bean flavored ice cream on the coffee table. It fitted right in with the large pile of opened bags of chips, crushed beer cans, and mess of unidentifiable crap already there. He glanced over to the digital clock under the TV he forgot to turn off--not that he cared anyway. 

"How long did I sleep?" mumbling to himself, he sat up and yawned. As his mind cleared away the haze, he realized it was only 2 in the afternoon. A deep sigh escaped him, the 7th time today.

Six days trapped in the penthouse really hampered his spirit somewhat. Since waking up from the stake-out incident, Asami came back before midnight on the first day as promised, but the bastard refused to answer his questions about the missing memory card from his camera. He was unsure whether it was Asami or Matsuda-gumi's men who stole it. The last time he compared Asami to thugs, the man wasn't too happy about it, so he held back. Besides, the secret room wasn't all too appealing for an injured knee. 

On the second day, Suoh--whose name he only learned after harassing the guy for an hour-- assumed his guard duty in front of the door again once Asami was gone. Just as a loyal soldier should, and nothing Akihito could do to get him to move from the spot. It wasn't like he didn't try to escape. He attempted to sneak out once while the guard went for a bathroom break, but his chance evaporated into thin air when upon opening the door, he found another equally burly looking guard stationed right outside of it. Suoh then casually walked out of the bathroom in a half-strut and took his post again, but he didn't miss the smirk written all over the man's face. Asami really took the extra precautions, but Akihito didn't know if he should be happy for the man's effort or lament over his situation. He gave up after that attempt and spent the rest of his time working and cleaning his cameras. 

Asami came back early on the third day to give him a new phone, which he gratefully accepted, despite knowing Asami's ulterior motive. He usually wasn't fond of accepting gifts from the older man, but this, he'd make an exception. Any opportunity to contact the outside world was a welcoming change since most of his contacts were from his phone. 

The fourth day was the most interesting. Apparently, the penthouse had a built-in speaker system. He only found it after sneaking into Asami's private office to look for his memory card. The golden opportunity presented itself, and he took it without hesitation. Hence, the start of his petty war with Asami's goons. He spent the rest of that day blasting loud, obnoxious, teen pop music just to annoy the hell out of the guards. Unfortunately, they remained just as stoic as any good statue should be, unflinching and uncaring. If anything, all he did was irritate Asami's neighbors, but nobody was stupid enough to file a complaint against Asami anyway. That night, Asami came home around midnight to fuck him into unconsciousness, but not before warning him to stop being a brat, confirming that someone was updating the bastard on his daily activities. 

On the fifth day, he gave up trying to do anything, let alone escape. He spent most of that day just like today, lazing around, feeling helplessly useless. After wasting 5 days digging for information, he'd only managed to find out one or two useful things. He learned that Izumi-gumi officially disbanded after their leader was killed. However, there was little to no information on the conflict that happened two years before the incident. Someone did a good job wiping the records. Even more unusual was the lack of current news on Takamura's imminent release from prison. Several phone calls to his contacts and another one to his old editor was all that it took to confirm that. 

_'Takamura Michio? Well, the name sounds familiar, but I'm not sure."_

_"Chief, the guy is the ex-boss of a Yakuza family, how can you not know anything about him?"_

_"Eh? Is that so? I thought he was just a low ranking member."_

 

Akihito was so frustrated that he hung up on the man. Still nothing useful. Another dead end. Takamura was smarter than he'd expected, and he was wasting hus time looking at the wrong sources. 

To make matters worst, Asami had been avoiding him ever since their chat, coming back later than normal and never staying too long when he was around. Perhaps Asami told him about Matsuda-gumi to quell his thirst for more information, thinking he'd sit still like a docile puppy and take whatever he could get. But Asami misunderstood his motive as well as his capacity to devote himself to the profession. Granted, what he did a couple nights ago was pretty stupid, especially when he had little information to work with. And although he didn't admit it to Asami, he was grateful he didn't die that night, and even more so that Nojima survived the ordeal. Everything was like an unbelievable dream.

But the dream had to end because this was his reality. The truth wouldn't just show up at his doorstep if he sat around idled. He wanted to know more about everything, about Matsuda-gumi and their heinous crimes, and whether Murata had a hand in them. Any evidence of the son-of-bitch's involvement would expose him to the public and put him under the police's scrutiny. It was the only way to corner Murata and hopefully help Yukio as a result. The pictures he took that night might cause a curious stir in the media, but combined that with evidence of said involvement, it'd transform into a giant storm. Though the biggest roadblock to his goal right now was Asami's reluctance to share information. Why must the man insist on keeping him in the dark?

His only other choice, the person who might answer his questions was Nojima. As much as he didn't want to bother the detective after the man just wrestled his life back from death's grip, he couldn't afford playing the waiting game any longer. If Matsuda-gumi's men had his pictures, Murata will know something was off. Yukio could be in danger. 

Not wanting to waste anymore time mulling, he grabbed the cell phone from underneath the pile of junk and called Asami. After a while, the call automatically went into voice mail. The fucking bastard wouldn't even pick up his phone now? Scratching his head in frustration, Akihito threw the phone back on the coffee table, and hung his head. _'What should I do now?'_

As if on cue, the phone buzzed, and he shot his head up. 

"Asami?"

"What do you want? I'm busy." Asami's voice was cold and detached, something he'd been observing lately. _'Is he angry?'_

"I know you're busy, assh--" he stopped himself, insulting didn't seem like a good idea at the moment, "--look, how long are you going to keep me here like this?"

"It won't be long. Just endure it, and everything will be over soon."

"What do you mean over? What's going to be over soon? I won't understand if you don't tell me anything. Stop being so damn cryptic all the time. I can handle--"

"Akihito, don't get yourself involved any further than you already have. I don't want to resort to using force if that's what it takes get you to behave." 

"Asami," he paused, uncertain if he should ask the next question, "do you distrust me so much?" 

Asami didn't answer, but the lack of one was enough to invoke a sense of bitterness in him. He stood up and made his way to the living room entrance. Stopping just right before it, he clenched his hand into a fist when Asami finally responded.

"I don't have tine for your questions right now. We'll talk later," said the impassive voice, and the call disconnected. The words chafed him more than he wanted them to be. Thinking he'd get a real answer from a man who wore his armor long before he was even born was delusional. He should have known.

Holding his emotions at bay, he stepped out into the hall. Out of habit, he did a quick check for Suoh, but an unfamiliar face greeted him instead, another minion. Although smaller and lankier than Suoh, the man was dressed in a black suit like most of Asami's men. Did Asami replace his best bodyguard thinking he had him in the palm of his hand? He was about to make a snide comment at the man when the phone in his hand buzzed again. Not bothering to check the caller's name, he answered the call. 

"Hey Akihito! Is that you? Is that really you?" Kou's excited voice boomed through the phone. 

Suddenly reminded that he'd been ignoring Kou's calls for the last few days, guilt crept into his consciousness. Actually, he hadn't spent time with his buddies for a month now, and with his current situation, he didn't want to keep making excuses or invent explanations. Kou's curiosity rivaled that of the country' top tabloid magazine. 

But in that moment, like a miracle, a brilliant escape plan popped into his head. 

"Asami, what do you want?" He said it loud enough for the guard to hear. 

"Huh? Did you say something?" 

He deduced that Kou must've been at a club or bar judging from the loud music in the background. "Nothing. Why did you call me back?"

"Errr...ok. Takato, I think he's losin' it." Kou handed Takato the phone.

"Akihito, where have you been? We haven't seen you around at all." 

"Tell him! Tell him!" Kou said in the background.

"Sheesh, get off my back, Kou. I can't hear him if you're shouting in my ears. Anyway, we found the CD you were looking for. I tried to call you, but you didn't answer and the auction was ending, so we bought it anyway."

Kou stole the phone from Takato. "Yea! You owe us one! Let's meet up. I want to listen to it too."

"Ok, I'll go."

"Cool, where do you want to meet?" his unsuspecting friend asked, failing to notice Akihito's unusual phone etiquette and indifferent tone of voice.

"I'll text you when I get to the hospital."

"Hospital? Are you ok, Akihito? Are you sick?"

"No, fuck off, Asami!" 

"Asami?" He hung up before Kou could ask anymore. _'I'm sorry. Kou. Takato."_ He quickly flipped to the call history and deleted Kou's call record. With the most believable poker face he could muster, he walked up to the guard. 

"Oi, your boss just told me to go to the hospital to get my stitches removed."

The guard stared at him quietly for a moment before shifting his gaze to the knee, the black stitches were there alright. What the man didn't know was that it'd take at least another 9-10 days before the wound could completely heal. He maintained his poker face, but the man's own poker face was more intimidating than his. 

"Whatever, I'm going to go change. You better be ready to escort me when I'm done."

"Wait."

"What? You don't believe me?" Feigning annoyance, he shoved the phone in the man's face, showing him the list of incoming calls with the top and most recent number belonging to Asami. "This is your boss' number right? You can check if you don't believe me." He was still keeping a cool expression, but his heart was already beating rapidly. He secretly hoped the man didn't notice the slight time discrepancy.

The man eyed him suspiciously before whipping out his own phone to match the number. His eyebrows knitted into a brow, as though he just confirmed something he didn't want to. 

"See? This is your boss' number, isn't it? I'm just getting my damn stitches removed. Is that really hard to understand?"

The guard looked at him again. "I'm going to call Asami-sama to confirm. You better not be lying to me."

_'Shit! Think Akihito. Think!'_

"I wouldn't call him right now if I were you. I just told him to fuck off. Are you so sure he wouldn't take his anger out on you instead?" he said coolly with a trademark Asami smirk. 

The man's expression turned a shade darker, as if he just remembered something horrible. 

"Look, just come to the hospital with me, and when we get there, I'll let you call him yourself."

With a sigh, the man reached behind him to produce a pair of handcuffs. "Fine, but you're coming with me in these."

Akihito eyed it evilly. He had thought that Asami was the only one with a perverted fondness for handcuffs, but apparently, his employees also shared his taste. "You know, if it wasn't for my injured knee, I'd kick you in the balls right now. But I'm too tired, so let's get this over with." 

He wasn't pissed, not really, since the man just fell for one of his an oldest tricks. If anything, he was delighted, but the idiot didn't have to know that.

\-----------------------------------------

On the way to the hospital, the two guards, one a driver and the other one Akihito was handcuffed to, both decided to ignore him. Good. These two were morons, he mused. Suoh or Kirishima wouldn't fall for such a trick. With his free hand, he texted Kou a short apology.

 _'Hey, I'm sorry for earlier. Can't explain. I'll make it up to you guys later. Send the CD to this address.'_

He paused to consider whether it was a good idea to tell his friends about Asami's address. They knew he was staying with someone, but he never told them he was involved with a man, let alone Asami Ryuichi. Kou might've been a busybody, but it wasn't like his friend would barge into the place without warning, would he? Deciding that he was over thinking it, he added the address and sent the text.

\-----------------------------------------

They arrived at the hospital 30 minutes later, and Akihito confidently strolled into the visitor's lounge. Things were working in his favor so far. He had been to this hospital before and on multiple occasions to get his wounds treated from all the minor accidents he had from his stake-outs. 

Walking past the information desk, he made his way straight for the elevator. Now came the hard part. How was he going to shake off the two guards? Maybe he could handle one, but two would be an overkill. Damn. He didn't think that far ahead.

The elevator dinged softly when they reached the 12th floor, and the three unlikely trio stepped into the General Medicine wing. A nurse smiled at Akihito as she passed, but Akihito was too nervous to return the smile. Plodding past a myriad of sick patients waiting on benches and curious children huddling near their parents, he made his way to a semi-obscured section of the wing. Once at the door, he knocked cautiously, half-wishing the doctor who always treated him was in today, or his little plan would be all for naught. 

Silence. He knocked again. Nothing. _'Shit.'_

"Hey, are you sure this is the place?" a guard asked in irritation. The lanky guard took out his phone to dial Asami. Slightly panicking, Akihito was about to say something when a familiar voice interrupted them.

"Akihito? Is that you?"

"Shirakawa-sensei!" Akihito turned to greet the 43 year-old, dark-haired doctor who was holding a bento box in his hand. Akihito observed that the man was the same as usual, still wearing the trademark stethoscope, lab coat, and bowtie that looked like it came straight out of the antique museum. 

"It's Shirasawa and why are you--" The doctor gave him a puzzling look and fidgeted with his gold-rimmed glasses, as if to make sure he wasn't seeing a ghost. Akihito tactfully grabbed the doctor's arm before the man could make a comment on his impromptu visit, though he was relieved that luck was still on his side. 

The lanky guard closed his phone, seemingly annoyed that he failed to reach his boss. His partner shot him an understanding look. And for the first time in his life, Akihito was glad that Asami was actually too busy to pick up the phone.

"Sensei! Let's save the chit-chat for later. You see these gentlemen here, they're very busy folks, so let's not waste their time. Shall we?" Akihito nudged the doctor towards a nearby examination room. Before they went in, however, he lifted his handcuffed wrist and glared at the guard. "Oi, you're going to take this off?"

The lanky guard didn't respond. 

"Don't tell me...you plan to follow me in there. I have to take my pants off, so sensei could work on my knee...but if you're so eager about watching me half-naked, I'll make sure to tell Asami that."

The guard stiffened at the mention of his boss' name, and Akihito tried his best to hide his amusement at the man's reaction. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, the man searched for a key in his breast pocket and undid the cuffs. Akihito immediately shook his free wrist, feeling overjoyed for freedom again. The two guards gave him a sour look, but he ignored them, and waltz into the examination room. Shirasawa watched the whole thing in silence, not knowing why he was there, then shrugged his shoulders and followed Akihito.

Once the two were in the room, Akihito closed the door and locked it. 

"Sensei, I need your help. Those shady guys won't let me escape," Akihito whispered.

The doctor gave him a I-knew-this-was-going-to-happen look. "Akihito, did you get yourself in trouble again, and who are they anyway?"

"I need to see someone in this hospital, but I can't do it with those two tagging along. Can you help me find out the patient's room number?" Akihito skillfully deflected the doctor's questions. He paused to let the man absorb the new information. "And maybe after that, distract them while I make an escape," he trailed off, but the doctor didn't miss the last part.

"You want me to be a decoy? Oi oi, they look dangerous. Do they even have guns? Akihito, I'm too young to die." 

_'Too young?'_

"Don't worry, they're not Yakuza. You'll live long enough to see me grow old."

Shirasawa groaned at the thought of seeing Akihito again. "I'm not so sure about that. It's not every day I see a former patient coming to see me...handcuffed to another grown man who looked like he'd just walked out of a Yakuza movie set." 

Damn. This was taking longer than Akihito had expected. If the goons outside managed to contact Asami, his plan would fail before he could even get to Nojima. 

"Sensei, just one more time, please help me!" Akihito clapped his hands together in a plea like he was praying at the local Shinto shrine.

Sighing in defeat, the doctor conceded, "I can't let you see the patient if he or she doesn't know you, you know."

"But I do know him. Just tell him my name, and I'm sure he'll let me see him...I hope."

"Fine, tell me his name." Akihito saw light at the end of the tunnel.

"Nojima Norio."

Shirasawa lifted both eyebrows in surprise, "Ah...him."

Akihito perched himself on the examination table. "You know him?" 

"Well, not exactly, but I treated his underlings and they talked about him a lot. He's a good guy, always stayed behind to make sure his men were ok before leaving--when he was still a cop anyway."

"Huh. Everyone seems to know more about him than I do."

"Eh? You didn't know he was the police chief?"

"Not until recently." Suddenly feeling guilty that he knew so little about the man who saved his life, Akihito diverted his gaze to the jar of tongue depressors. "I just want to thank him. He saved me from a tight situation not too long ago."

"Hah, it's just like you, but don't beat yourself up about it. I only knew about him because my colleague treated a comatose patient who happened to be his underling. He always drop by on a weekly basis to visit the man, and he's been doing it for the past 7 years, so some of the staff knew him."

"Sensei, you shouldn't disclose information so easily like that. That's a violation of your patient's privacy."

"Shut up, brat. You were the one who got me started." Shirasawa playfully smacked Akihito on the top of his head. 

"Ouch. That really hurts you know." The doctor ignored him.

"We were really shocked when he was admitted a couple days ago. With wounds like that, it was a miracle he survived. He should be out of the intensive care by now, but I don't know where they transferred him to. Hold on, let me check." The doctor turned to reach for the phone on his desk and dialed the nurse's station, failing to notice the regretful expression on the photographer's face. 

"Hello, Minami-san, ah this is Shirasawa, can you lookup a patient for me? Name, Nojima Norio." 

A series of knocks interrupted their peaceful moment which made Akihito jump. 

"Hey, how much longer are you going to take?" said the muffled voice from the other side of the door. Hopping off the examination table, Akihito looked between the door and Shirasawa in anticipation. 

Shirasawa hung up and faced him again. "Room 713 B."

Akihito smiled in acknowledgement. The knocking grew louder. 

Shirasawa looked at Akihito thoughtfully, as if debating over something in his head, before reaching to open a nearby drawer. Pulling out a backup pair of light green hospital scrubs, he sighed again, "Since we got this far..."

Within less than a minute, Akihito donned the scrubs along with a face mask, and tucked his stray hair under the matching cap. He turned to the doctor and delivered his usual tease, "Sensei, thanks for helping me. Guess I didn't have to use the pictures I took of you entering a hostess bar that one time." And with that, he unlocked the door and proceeded to walk out, leaving a startled doctor to look at his back.

The two guards spun around once the door was opened, and Akihito coolly strolled past them. 

The lanky guard watched the suspicious figure for a second before grabbing Akihito's shoulder, "Hey you, wait!"

Akihito immediately twisted himself free and picked up the pace, power walking past the miserable bunch of patients from before.

"I said, wait, you--" The guard managed to grab Akihito's cap this time and yanked it off, freeing the easily recognizable blonde hair. And in a flash of a moment, Akihito made a run for it, adrenaline coursing through his system. 

As the other patients watched the commotion unfolding before them, Shirasawa chased after the trio and shouted, "Oi, I didn't go to that hostess club out of choice. My friends made me do it, you little brat!" Realizing that he had just confessed in front of his patients, the doctor left his mouth hanging for a second or two. It was too late. The male patients threw him curious looks, and the mothers hug their kids tighter. He cleared his throat. 'That brat." 

Upon hearing the doctor's shouts, Akihito laughed at the man's persistence. He shot an arm up to wave goodbye and rounded a corner. Once he reached a stairway exit, he shoved the door open, but instead of entering, he let it slowly swing back into place, then slipped into a nearby janitor's closet. A few seconds later, the sound of footsteps drew closer. He held his breath as if afraid it'd give him away-- and to avoid the smell of vomit coming from the mop just 4 inches from his face. 

"Where the hell did he go?" said a breathless voice.

"Stairs!" 

Akihito waited for the footsteps to disappear, and peeked through the crack just to make sure. Nobody. With relief, he escaped the smelly closet, gasping for air. Holding his breath when he had none to begin with made him a little dizzy.

_'I can't believe they fell for the door trick.'_

He chuckled to himself while shaking his head. Asami really needed to hire smarter henchmen. 

\--------------------------------------------

Kichirou patiently observed the guard standing a few feet away from the hospital room. He'd been watching the man for at least 20 minutes already, pretending to wait on another sick relative, book in hand, but not reading the words. His usual style of black dress pants and white shirt were replaced with a more casual one, gray polo and blue jeans. The typical college student look perfectly blended in with the other occupants on the bench. 

Two more minutes later, his chance finally arrived when the man stepped away for a bathroom break. And with the brevity of a trained assassin, he stood up, quickly made the short trek to the room, and entered it before closing door. As he turned to take in the surrounding, he noted room's spaciousness, a private room, probably thanks to the Asami Ryuichi. A small low table, couch, and an armchair occupied one side the space. 

As he approached the peacefully sleeping figure on the bed, his heart ached a little, feeling partially responsible for the man's current state. He traced the clear tubes and wires with his eyes, unaware that the detective was awake and watching him through half-lidded eyes. 

"Kichirou," Nojima said quietly, his voice raspy and tired.

"Ojiisan." Kichirou met Nojima's gaze, the usual look of disdain for the other man replaced by concern and something more subtle, guilt. Though he tried his best to hide it, the wall he'd kept around his heart for so long was slowly crumbling. 

A small smile graced Nojima's features, "You haven't called me that in years."

Another tug at his heartstring, the truth in those words stabbed him like daggers. The last time he'd addressed the man with the honorific was when his mother was still alive. He couldn't forget the time he was spending his 12th birthday with his mother at a restaurant, and they met by chance. Out of ignorance, he called out to the man, but was utterly rejected. The cold expression seared into his memory. But he also knew-- knew that he could never truly hate the man. 

"Why did you risk your life for someone like him, a stranger, no less?" Kichirou didn't bother dancing around the subject. He couldn't fathom the detective's motives. Why did the older man go so far to protect Asami's lover? Why him?

Nojima studied the troubled expression on the youngster's face. He was happy that the kid came to visit him, but answering the question directly would only lead to the truth about his mother's death. 

"I've spent enough time watching him to understand one thing. He'll walk his own path, never submitting to anyone's will. He's not a part of that world." 

"Not a part of that world," Kichirou repeated the words, his mind tried to comprehend their meanings. "I don't understand. If it wasn't for Asami Ryuichi, mother's death would have been avenged. He was the one that prevented that, but now--you're protecting his lover."

Nojima looked away in silence, gazing into the distance as memories of the past flooded his mind. And for a time, only the beeping sound of the heart monitor could be heard. 

"He's doing something I failed to do seven years ago, when I failed to protect your mother." 

Kichirou's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure whether the older man was referring to the act of abandoning his mother, or hiding something else. What was he hoping for in Takaba Akihito?

Momentarily distracted by his thoughts, Kichirou failed to hear the soft footsteps approaching from behind him. 

"Kichirou?" 

Surprised that someone else was in the room, even more so that the person knew his name, he whirled around. Akihito mirrored his own bewilderment.

"It is you. What are you--" before Akihito could finish, Kichirou darted past him and ran out of the room. In a split second, before Akihito's mind could process what just happened, his feet was quicker to respond, and he gave chase. He needed to know something, and Kirichirou had been avoiding his phone calls. 

Akihito continued to chase Kichirou as they exited into a stairway. "Wait!"

After two flights of stairs, he was growing impatient, the distance between them increasing. Two-third down the third flight of stairs, he skipped the rest of the steps and made a jump for it, effectively landing in front of Kichirou. Stunned by Akihito's stubbornness, Kichirou stopped and stared at the photographer, which gave Akihito an opportunity to grab his arm. 

"I just want to talk." Akihito said breathlessly, ignoring the sting at the site of his wound, which probably opened again. After all this running, he was surprised it held out for so long. 

Kichirou nodded, still somewhat speechless from Akihito's persistence. The grip on his arm relaxed. 

"First, why did you run? Ah--nvm." Another gasp of air. 

Kichirou waited for Akihito's breathing to smooth out again before speaking, "Why did you chase after me?"

"I want to ask you a few things...since everyone else was either clueless or extremely keen on not answering my questions." It was true. He'd hoped that maybe Kichirou could give him something, anything. 

"What do you want to know from me?"

"Takamura Michio. You said he is still Matsuda-gumi's boss, but I can't find anything on him. Even my contact in the police knew little about him. Why? It doesn't make any sense to me."

"You won't find much from outside sources. Takamura was never officially named as Matsuda-gumi's boss."

"What do you mean he wasn't nam--"

"For two years, Matsuda-gumi never promoted a boss and continued its operations that way. After Takamura was promoted from fourth lieutenant to senior advisor, he rarely appeared in any of the executive meetings. Only the top lieutenants, executives, and main consul knew about his leadership, the rest of the ranks remained in the dark."

"You're telling me this guy had been controlling the organization from the shadow even before his prison time?" Akihito didn't care to hide the shock in his voice. Takamura was dangerous, that he wouldn't deny, but for someone like Kichirou to grasp such sensitive information. _'Just who are you, Kichirou?'_

"What kind of connection do you have that you would..." Akihito trailed off, unsure how to finish the question. 

Kichirou studied the photographer, his expression unreadable. "I know because he's my father."

Akihito's eyebrows shot upward, locking his gaze with the other man. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words didn't come out. 

"I couldn't tell you before because you wouldn't go to the stakeout if I did, but everything I told you was the truth."

Akihito narrowed his eyes. He had thought that Kichirou was just a fellow journalist, but the other was right, trust would be an issue if he knew about their relationship. Takamura wasn't someone to be taken lightly. How could he expect his son to be any different? It could've been a ploy to get him to walk into the enemy's trap without much effort on their part. If it wasn't for Nojima, he could have been captured that night and used as leverage against Asami. But to blame Kichirou for his own mistake would be unfair. Just like Kichirou who had to hide his family connections, he had to hide his relationship with Asami in order to continue his job as a criminal reporter. If Kichirou didn't share his father's sentiments, it was no use playing the blame game. 

"I made that decision," Akihito released Kichirou's arm, "but not for the reason you think I did it for. I wanted to help Yukio even if it was a slim chance. That's why I did it. Though I'm a little pissed that you withheld some things from me, I didn't think you were lying. When you told me I reminded you of your mother, that was the truth, wasn't it?" 

Kichirou could only manage a nod. As hazel eyes searched his, he saw the fire burning with fierce determination within them. Perhaps he was wrong about one thing. The man who stood before him wasn't just another one of Asami's pawn. _'Not a part of that world.'_ The words echoed in his mind.

"I did get you involved in something very dangerous. You should be angry at me, not understanding." 

"Yea, well, I would've kicked you in the knee for it, but my own hurts right now." Akihito bent over to rub the sore spot. 

"Takaba-san, maybe you should stop," Kichirou pleaded in earnest, "Asami...my father and Murata are dangerous men. You will become a sacrifice in their game." _'Just like my mother'_

"I don't think I can stop now, not after what I've learned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> \- I like to depict Akihito's interactions with different people, not just with Asami. Makes it more interesting and not just the triple Gs (g-spot, guns, and gangsters) all the time. Err....except the gangster convo in the last scene. XD  
> \- Kudos to anyone who figured out that Kichirou was Takamura's son. Did I lose anyone yet?  
> \- Hopefully, chapters 11, 12, and 13 will answer a lot of your questions (but not all).  
> \- Feel free to point out my mistakes. Still new to the craft.  
> \- Thanks for your comments/reviews/kudos. :D


	11. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami finds out a few things about the accident Akihito is investigating and more. Akihito is finally able to meet with Nojima and makes a surprising discovery of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6819  
> Disclaimer: All VF characters belong to Yamane-sensei. OCs are mine.
> 
> A/N: The last chapter (10: questions) and this one are meant to be read back to back, so I'm sorry it took me so long. I didn't want to rush because this is sort of a key chapter. Ended up rewriting the entire first scene. Hopefully, these four distinct, but related conversations will clear away some of the fog from the previous chapters. :)
> 
> * Gentle reminder: Fujita Tadao is Takamura's second-in-command/underboss, the guy Asami failed to capture during the night of the stakeout incident/ambush. Nakano (now deceased) was the leader of the group sent to spy on Matsuda-gumi.

Asami calmly strolled into his office, all the while maintaining his impassive attitude, but his demeanor failed to reflect the nagging irritation chipping away at his patience. Opting for the leather couch instead of his desk, which reminded him too much of work at the moment, he settled into one of the comfortable cushions. 

Meanwhile, Kirishima trailed behind his boss and closed the door after him to give the other some privacy. Keenly aware of the boss' disposition, he patiently stood at one end of the couch with a stack of documents. 

During their afternoon meeting with an irate Diet member, a rowdy Korean gang leader, and a bumbling secretary to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Kirishima was sure Asami-sama would’ve emptied a magazine or two into their bodies, right then and there in the conference room, to end their useless bickering. Fortunately for them, the boss had entrusted his Beretta with him prior to the meeting. He admitted such an act was wholly unexpected, and it left him speechless, since the boss and his gun were two inseparable entities. Perhaps Asami-sama was acutely aware of his own capricious moods lately and decided to play it safe. 

The participants of the meeting, however, were entirely unaware they were spared of their ill-fated demise, all thanks to the boss’ unparalleled exercise of self-control. For some unknown reason, they all had decided to bring up problems when there should have been none, as if an invisible force had compelled them to act and provoke discord. Whatever it was, he knew the boss wasn’t in the mood for business, but he'd rather deal with the man's annoyance now than face his wrath later. So he continued to stand at his post, dutifully waiting, remaining unobtrusive, though not completely disregarded.

Asami ignored his secretary, not in the mood to listen to the next problem on his plate. He lit a Dunhill and took a long drag before exhaling, letting the nicotine settle into his system and soothe his dangerous urges. Resting his head on a back cushion, he watched the thin swirl of translucent smoke disappear into the darker recesses of the dimly lit office. Its hypnotic pattern only served to remind him of his fatigue state. As exhaustion finally reared its ugly head, he fought the wave of drowsiness threatening to overtake his consciousness. Sleep was something he had very little of lately, and a certain temperamental photographer at home didn't make it easier for him.

Unwilling to give in to the fatigue, Asami glanced over to his secretary who was still quietly waiting. "Suoh?" 

"He called to check in not too long ago, Asami-sama. He should be on his way back with Ishida," Kirishima checked his watch, “in about 10 minutes.”

"How is Ishida's condition?"

"At the moment, nothing too serious, aside from the external bullet wound on his arm. He wanted to see you before going to the hospital, so I agreed to it without consulting you first. I hope I didn’t overstep--” 

“It’s fine.” Asami dismissed his secretary’s attempted apology with a wave of his hand. 

Kirishima, however, didn't miss the lackluster in his boss' usual authoritative voice. “Asami-sama, maybe you should consider taking the day off after meeting. You have been working overtime without rest recently.”

“You seem eager to show me the files you're holding in your hands," Asami stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby ash tray, "your intention doesn't mirror your advice, Kirishima."

Stumped by the truth in his boss' words, the secretary was silent, concern etched on his face. 

"Don't give me that look. This is why Akihito thinks you're like a fussy mother hen." Asami smirked in amusement and gestured for his assistant to proceed. 

_‘Fussy mother hen?’_ Kirishima minced the words in his head for a moment before placing the manila folders on the low table in front of his boss. He would’ve objected to such a tease, but decided to let it pass, seeing how the boss' expression had lightened up a little after mentioning the photographer. It was a strange thing how the boy’s name alone could invoke the boss’ more playful side, but his existence was both a blessing and a curse.

“The background check on the orphanage you requested didn't show anything unusual, but I think I finally found a link between that place and Murata Seiichi."

Asami examined the three neatly stacked folders before grabbing the topmost one to scan through its content. The first document, judging from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police's Asahikage symbol on its top right corner, was a copy of a report on a motor vehicle accident. He read the names and ages of the parties involved: Murata Koji (25), Uehara Yuichi (32), Uehara Kyoko (30), and Uehara Yukio (8). Of the four names, two were listed as deceased. Aside from the two vehicles' make and model, as well as other nonessential details, the actual report remained largely incoherent. Dark ink blotched out key words, sentences, and sometimes entire paragraphs throughout. The obnoxious markings only added to the report's dubious nature. 

Asami looked up at his assistant, eyes demanded for prompt answers. 

The secretary continued, "That was a copy of the original accident report, but the second document is the one currently kept on file at the police archives. I tried to contact the police officer who filed the original, but he had resigned, claiming illness and moved away. I sent a few men to look for him at his parents' residence and a few known places he tend to frequent, but he seemed to have disappeared without a trace." 

Asami lifted the second document. Surely, it was a perfectly clean copy, unadulterated by the objectionable black marker. He dropped it back on the pile, not bothering to read it. It was hardly difficult to assume that the second was filled with lies, worthless information fabricated through bribery and coercion. 

"From the second report, Murata Koji claimed that he was the victim. The other car lost control and collided with his before swerving off the road. He also claimed that he drove away and failed to alert the authority of his involvement because he was scared and panicked. Since there was no reported witness, none could testify against his claims."

Asami almost snickered. "And politicians who lined their fat wallets with my money could claim they didn't know it was illegal. Another fancy way to say that he fled the scene with his tail between his legs."

"Indeed, Asami-sama." Kirishima's adjusted his glasses. "I believe that the original report mentioned a potential witness, who we now know is being held hostage by Matsuda-gumi as leverage against Murata Seiichi."

"If Murata is so worried about the witness’ confession, it only proved that his son was the one at fault. What made the court believe his lie?"

"The autopsy report on Uehara Yuichi claimed that he was heavily intoxicated. His wife’s report also stated that she had some alcohol in her system. So the police assumed that the family was on their way home from a gathering, and the father had decided to drive home in his drunken state. I’ve looked at Uehara Yuichi's driving records. They were clean and his behavior didn't fit his profile."

"Of course, I should credit Murata Seiichi for his efforts in covering his tracks so well," Asami said coolly, but not without a hint of sarcasm. Even a blind man could see that the story was distorted with many questions left unanswered. The presumption of a negligent father who had decided to put his entire family at risk while intoxicated seemed farfetched, a convenient set-up when the other party was dead and couldn’t defend themselves. "But there's more to it, isn't there?"

"Yes, sir. I did a background check on the doctor who signed the autopsy. He was once a recipient of a reward for a Forensics internship program Murata used to sponsor."

Asami narrowed his eyes. Murata was smarter than he had thought, and a smart man was very much a dangerous one. Perhaps he had underestimated Murata's guile and his willingness to protect his son. He pondered on how Akihito had managed to grab a hold of such information, and how much the photographer knew about the accident before getting himself involved. But most importantly, whether or not Murata was aware of Akihito's involvement. 

Although he was impressed with Kirishima's exceptional skill at finding the most obscured and hidden kind of information, as evidenced in his ability to unmask Murata's carefully planned out web of lies, the missing link between the accident and Akihito's involvement remained unclear.

The secretary, as if attuned to his boss's expectations after 7 years of working for the man, answered the implicit question himself.

"Uehara Yukio survived the accident, but fell into a comma shortly after. After he woke up, the doctor declared that he has amnesia. The orphanage that he was sent to was also the same one Takaba did the charity for. The second folder contains a copy of his hospital records, transfer paperwork, and a recent psychological assessment by a contracted child psychologist."

Asami flipped through said folder, carefully reading through the documents until he came across the particular detail. _'Amnesia huh.'_ He skimmed through the document. His mind opened up to more questions than answers, making strange connections and discerning the facts entwined with one another.

"What struck me as strange is that the orphanage had recently received a large sum of money from a charity organization. I checked the source of the money out of curiosity, and to my surprise, it came from the Murata family. Murata didn’t seem like the remorseful type."

Asami watched the confused expression on his secretary's face. "It's his wife, not Murata. He went so far to bend the truth, I wouldn't put it past him to get rid of the boy. His wife probably knew and tried to protect the kid from her husband probably out of mercy or guilt for her son’s crime. This hospital record mentioned very little beyond stating that he has amnesia. Quite a rare condition and yet not even a single note or comment from his physician."

It was Kirishima's turn to be surprised. Despite his indifferent sentiment, Asami-sama was able to make such a sharp deduction like usual. "Are you suggesting that the boy's amnesia was also fabricated, Asami-sama?"

"No, I'm suggesting that his record was tampered with to make him have amnesia regardless of his actual condition. The boy could be a crucial witness, but an amnesiac may appear harmless. Or at least, that was what his wife probably convinced him."

Asami lit another Dunhill, amused as the secretary fought to hide his embarrassment for missing such an important connection even after scouring through the files multiple times.

"You're getting rusty, Kirishima. Maybe you should consider taking a break as well," Asami echoed the advice his assistant had given him earlier, and the secretary bowed in defeat. "What about the pictures?"

"They should be in the third folder. I had them professionally expanded in different resolutions as you requested."

Asami opened the last manila folder to see a stack of different sized pictures, the same ones taken from Akihito's memory card. He picked up a large print and studied the picture, noting the photographer's utilization of lighting and angle to get the best details. Despite the disadvantages of low lighting and unfavorable distance, Akihito's skills were undeniable, and a part of him was proud of the younger man's talent. But the picture only served to remind him the true nature of Akihito’s work, the danger and its potential consequences, truly a double-edged sword. 

He mentally frowned as he studied the man in glasses, Murata Seiichi. Next to him, stood Fujita Tadao. The shots weren’t ideal, but good enough to reveal their identities. He picked up another photo, this one framed a part of Murata's car, capturing Murata’s license plate numbers. A third photo had a zoomed out view of the factory with half of it shrouded in darkness. And the fourth picture captured the license plate numbers of one Matsuda-gumi’s vans. Asami smirked. Akihito wasn't stupid. The photographer made sure to capture every minute detail he could lay his eyes on to reveal Murata's involvement. 

It was a truth he could no longer deny. Akihito knew, in part at least, about Murata, the accident cover-up, and perhaps a little bit about the orphan boy. But the situation posed an important question, if Takamura had his people watching Akihito all this time, they should've been aware that Akihito was there that night. Why did Takamura let Akihito wander into their territory without resistance? Who was Akihito's informant?

"The men sent to tail Akihito, were you able to capture them?"

"Forgive me, Asami-sama, but I couldn't track them down after that night. I sent out a few men to check the area around the penthouse, but they couldn't find anyone suspicious."

Asami silently absorbed the information, but instinctively tensed at the implication that Takamura was playing another one of his games. Takura’s way of alternating between action and inaction was his special brand of scare tactics, to keep the prey on their feet, and to never let them see what was coming. He killed two of Takamura's lieutenants that night and fully expected some form of retaliation. And kept Akihito on house arrest for good measure, but things had quieted down considerably. Even on the day of his men's burial, Takamura did nothing to disrupt the ceremony. Another unpredictable outcome. 

Rubbing his right temple with a thumb, Asami pondered on Takamura's true motivations, analyzing the inconsistencies and deconstructing the conflicting behavior. But in doing so, the growing irritation crept into his consciousness again. So he stood and walked over to his desk. But a knock drew his attention to the door momentarily. He nodded to the secretary before bending over to open a bottom drawer and grabbed a whiskey bottle along with two glass tumblers. 

Kirishima understood the order and walked over to the large mahogany double doors to let the guest in. A man of tall stature in black suit entered, and their eyes met, they silently greeted each other. 

Kirishima studied the younger man, noting that the other's face was gaunter than the last time they had met, the prominent sharp jaws no longer matching his tough exterior. 

The man was Ishida Makoto, one of the men sent to infiltrate Matsuda-gumi and the sole survivor of the seven men operation. 

"Asami-sama." Ishida bowed deeply to his boss.

"Sit," Asami ordered as he made his way back to the couch. Ishida followed the command without hesitation and sat on the couch opposite of him.

Suoh entered the office shortly after. Kirishima threw him a knowing glance and the other acknowledged it. The two stood in silent from the side as their boss attended to their guest.

Asami observed the younger man across from him. He couldn't help his amusement as he watched Ishida sat with a straight back, his posture rigid and tense. It reminded him of the olden days, when samurais have an audience with their daimyo master.

"Relax, this isn't an interrogation."

Ishida heeded his words and relaxed a little, though the order did little to diminish his stiff features. 

Asami poured some whiskey in a tumbler and set it before Ishida before attending to his own tumbler. Surprised by the rare gesture, Ishida thanked him and bowed, but his eyes settled on one of the photos among the pile scattered on the table. Asami didn't miss the shift in the man's attention. He gathered the photos and placed them back in the folder before closing it. 

"You should know that one of the men in the pictures--was Fujita Tadao."

"I do, sir."

"Nakano didn't assign you to watch him?"

"No, sir."

"What happened that day, Ishida?" Asami asked calmly. He wanted to know the truth, but had no intention to scare his subordinate. The younger man had just returned from a world of hell, judging from the dullness in those dark brown eyes. 

"I was the first one that Nakano contacted, so I left my post as told."

"Why didn't you go to the safe house as instructed?" Asami took a sip of his drink.

"The branch leader sent me on an assignment that day, so after receiving the call, I didn't think I would be able to make it to the safe house without being caught. Please forgive me for disobeying your order."

Asami watched the younger man furrow his brows, lost in thoughts for a moment. 

"I had been hiding at a bar that happened to be owned by Matsuda-gumi. The Okaasan there is my aunt. She was kicked out of the family when she was a teenager, so people didn't know about our relationship. I didn't want to contact you immediately out of fear that Matsuda-gumi might target her."

Ishida was the youngest member of the team as well as the most inexperienced. Nakano didn't assign him to watch Fujita probably because it was too risky. But to think that so much luck was on his side when the entire team didn't survive the ordeal was truly extraordinary. 

"Ishida," Asami paused until Ishida dared to look at him again, "I'm not condemning you. The others who made it to the safe house were executed by Takura’s men. You lived because you were quick to think on your feet, I won't deny that."

Asami upended the rest of his drink. "Two of the men were critically injured by the time I made it to the safe house, but they both didn't make it during surgery."

Ishida's eyes followed his boss' every movement. 

"I considered letting you rest, but that is not what you really want, is it?" Asami settled his gaze on the other man. It wasn’t a question, his golden orbs pierced through Ishida's rigid exterior as he scrutinized the other's reaction. "I'll send you out of the country. There is a certain individual I want you to protect in my stead."

"Who do you want me to protect, Asami-sama?"

Asami, fully aware that Ishida was spurred by a desire to avenge his colleagues and friends, and probably preferred to stay in Tokyo to help him deal with Takamura, but a vengeful mind is a reckless and suicidal one. "When the time comes, you'll meet him. Maybe it'll help clear your mind of this place." 

Ishida didn't voice his protest, but his eyes suggested otherwise. Asami patiently waited as Ishida mulled over the offer some more. 

"I understand, Asami-sama." Ishida bowed in concession. "If it’s alright, I want to visit the others before I go."

Asami nodded. "Suoh, take him to the cemetery and then the hospital." 

"Yes, sir." The bodyguard bowed before excusing himself and left with Ishida.

A few moments later, Kirishima, who stepped out earlier to answer a call while he was talking to Ishida, returned with an irritated look on his face. Only one person was capable of doing that to his secretary. 

Kirishima cleared his throat. "Asami-sama, it’s Takaba. He tricked one of the guards into taking him to the hospital, claiming that you ordered him to go get his stitches removed. He escaped shortly after meeting with a doctor. One of the men tried to contact you earlier, but couldn't get through."

Asami maintained his impassive features, his mind marveled that Akihito succeeded using such a flimsy excuse. The photographer’s infamous knack for slipping from the most ambiguous situation was always a wonder. 

He hung on Akihito a while earlier after walking out of the meeting to return the call. Normally, he’d ignore such calls whenever he was busy, but he knew Akihito was at his limit. Keeping Akihito in one place for even five days was already a feat in itself. The boy’s obstinate nature would never subject himself to being tied down for any period of time, especially when his freedom was threatened. If he should choose to stay, it would only be of his own will. Akihito’s lack of resistance in those days were proof of his guilt, for getting someone else’s injured, but the boy’s unquenchable thirst for truth would never allow him to sit still. 

“Asami-sama, the hospital called earlier to inform us of an unknown visitor asking about Nojima. A young man in his twenties claimed to be the detective’s relative, but he didn’t leave his name.”

_‘Relative?’_

Asami contemplated the possibility of an assassin, but it didn’t make any sense for Takamura to kill Nojima now, not after all these years. 

“Get the car ready. I want to pay Nojima a visit.”

“And Takaba, sir?”

“I doubt he left the hospital since Nojima is his target.”

“Should I tell the guard to look out for him?”

“No, let him talk. Have our men watch the main entrances,” Asami paused, “but fail me again and there won’t be a third chance.”

“Yes, sir.”

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito peeked his head out of the stairway exit, peering into the semi-deserted hospital hallway. The people sitting on the benches he had seen earlier were gone. He quickly scanned the room plates until his eyes found Nojima’s room again. 713 B. It was easier to spot when a guard was there. Akihito smirked in triumph, knowing the man won’t be coming back for a while.

Suddenly, someone cleared his throat behind him, and he flinched instinctively. It was a doctor who had just returned from his smoke break. The man reeked of cheap tobacco, the smell much stronger than what he could usually tolerate from Asami. ‘Must be a hard job, huh’ Akihito mused.

But the doctor was hardly amused as he cleared his throat again in annoyance, and Akihito moved out of his way. He waited for the doctor to disappear into a room before he nimbly made his way to Nojima’s room. 

Once inside, he was greeted with a patiently waiting Nojima.

_‘Damn, so much for the surprise element.’_

He walked over to the bed, and the detective removed his oxygen mask to speak, “Judging from that getup, I’m going to assume Asami didn’t let you come here, but you came anyway. I say you have about…five minutes before a guard catches you. But then again, you’re a pretty good therapist.” 

“But only you can catch me that easily Nojima-Oji--I mean Nojima-san,” Akihito quipped. “Plus, I added some laxatives to the guy’s coffee. He won’t be back for a while,” he said with an impish expression.

Nojima chuckled, his voice vibrated low and warm, although the action seemed to agitate his wounds, and he grimaced a little. Reminded of Nojima’s condition, Akihito’s guilt ridden thoughts quickly replaced his initial playfulness.

“Now that I think about it…maybe I shouldn’t have done that. He’s in charge of guarding you after all.” 

“I’ll be fine. I’m too old to be needing a bodyguard anyway. The most they would get after killing me is my cat, Inu-san.”

“Inu-san? Why did you name your cat Inu?”

“Because he thinks he’s a dog and acts like one. Damn cat makes me give him walks and sing lullabies until he sleeps.”

It was Akihito’s turn to chuckle, which soon grew into full blown laughter, the somber mood from before, dissipated. The image of the old man singing to his cat was just too much for him to bear. 

“Ojisan,” Akihito managed after regaining his composure again, “are you sure you’re ok?”

“Probably, these pain meds are amazing.”

Akihito couldn’t explain the sudden change in Nojima’s personality. The detective’s cranky and sarcastic nature he was so used to was no longer there --well, except for the sarcasm-- but still, he didn’t know what to make of it. Could it be that the older man was trying to cheer him up?

“Oh please, I can be funny sometimes too.” Nojima smiled at him. 

For the first time since Akihito had known the man, he realized how much Nojima reminded him of his grandfather. He scratched the spot behind his ear, still somewhat puzzled. “I guess.” 

A moment of awkward silence passed between them. Akihito wanted to tell Nojima he was sorry, but suddenly feeling at loss for words.

“I’m glad you’re ok, kid. I heard you ran out to tackle the shooter.”

Averting his eyes, Akihito’s hands curled into a fist on his sides. A sick person shouldn’t be worrying about him in this state, and it only made him angrier with himself. “I should be the one telling you that. It wasn’t like I did much to help the situation either…” Akihito trailed off.

“It wasn’t your fault things turned out the way they did. I could’ve stopped you, but chose not to because of my own selfish reasons.”

Akihito’s eyes met the older man’s, unable to comprehend what detective was referring to. 

“The kid you ran after earlier, he’s my grandson.”

Startled by such a revelation, the photographer didn’t know what to say. How could it be? He thought that Kichirou knew the detective because it was normal for a journalist to have an inside contact within the police just like he did, but this, this was unexpected. 

“If he is Takamura’s son, how could he also be your grandson?”

Nojima attempted to sit up, and Akihito helped him. 

“So he told you about his father.’”

Akihito nodded.

The detective heaved a sigh. “Kichirou had never forgiven me for abandoning his mother, so our relationship had been this way for years.”

In retrospect, Akihito could vaguely remember that Kichirou had introduced himself with a completely different surname than both his father and grandfather. “Miyazawa,” Akihito mouthed the word, not realizing that he had just said it out loud.

“Miyazawa is my wife’s family name. My daughter, Nobuko, took up the name when she married Takamura. My family had a long history of serving in the force for more than five generations. When she told me she never intended to join the police and wanted to pursue journalism instead, I didn’t stop her, thinking that I could convince her otherwise when she was older. I was wrong. After graduating from high school, she met Takamura who was still a small-time thug back then and married him against my will.”

“You were angry with her.”

“I was. Because I knew I had lost her completely when she told me she was pregnant with Kichirou. Out of anger, I kicked her out of the house and removed her from the family’s registry against my wife’s protest.”

Akihito watched the sorrowful expression on the older man’s face. He didn’t know how to comfort the other, and even more unsure of how to take in everything at the moment. He could only stand and listen in silence. 

“A part of me hoped that in doing so, she would regret her decision. The rift between us only grew over the years, and Kichirou became a victim in our conflict. He didn’t deserve to be rejected by me, not like that. I was wrong.” Nojima looked up at Akihito, searching for something Akihito didn’t know he had. “Takaba, please forgive Kichirou for dragging you into all of this. He is still chasing the ghost of his mother’s past, trying to make sense of her death, but I don’t want him to walk down that path, one only filled with anger and regret.”

“I don’t blame Kichirou, Nojima-san. It was my choice.” Akihito reassured the older man that he meant every word. “You don’t have to worry about Asami finding out that Kichirou was my informant either.”

“I’m more worried about you, and I’m certain that you’re already Takamura’s next target because of your relationship with Asami.”

In that moment, the cellphone in his pocket buzzed, but he ignored it. 

“How did you know that I was going to leave that night?”

“I didn’t know why Kichirou approached you, so I waited outside the penthouse the first night. You have a knack for getting in trouble, kid, so I had my doubts.”

Akihito was in awe that the older man understood him more than any of the security details Asami placed on him. “So you waited on the second night as well...and I thought I played it off pretty well and everything.” 

“I knew you were up to something when you left on your Vespa the second night, especially when Asami didn’t ask me to tail you. It wasn’t until after following you halfway that I realized you were heading toward Matsuda-gumi’s old base.”

The phone buzzed again.

Nojima eyed him curiously, watching Akihito’s mental battle with his cellphone. “You should answer it.” 

Akihito bit his lips in hesitation. He knew the call was probably from Asami. The phone stopped abruptly, and his eyebrows raised in response. Did Asami just give up? Unable to fight his curiosity, he reached for the device to confirm his suspicion. Surely enough, the bastard’s name appeared twice under the missed call list. He ignored it again, he turned back to Nojima.

“How did you manage to follow me? Everything was so dark, and I didn’t even notice that anyone was tailing me.”

Nojima chuckled again. “You are so used to my presence that you probably didn’t realize that I was following you the entire time. Also, I’m more familiar with those alleys than you. If you recall, I used to be a cop.”

The phone buzzed for the third time. ‘Damn’ He glared at it before checking the caller’s name. _‘Asami’_

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered to Nojima before turning to leave the room. The detective didn’t need to hear all the cussing he was about to do. 

He connected the call. “What?”

“Where are you?” Asami asked with his usual unaffected tone. It was always the same question, as if he had to report his whereabouts like he was some kind of pet complete with collar and tag. 

He was halfway through the door when out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar shape of someone and instinctively withdrew. Checking through the door’s little window, he made sure that he wasn’t imagining it. 

“Shit,” Akihito cursed under his breath. Asami was slowly making his way to the room and didn’t seem to notice him. 

“I know you’re still in the hospital, Akihito.”

“Then why did you even bother asking? I’m not a pet, Asami. You can’t continue to keep me at the penthouse without telling me anything,” Akihito tried to keep his voice controlled while he wracked his brain for a mean to escape. There was no way he could leave without being seen by Asami, and he bet his favorite camera Asami already had his guards stationed at the hospital’s exits. 

Peeking through the window again, he saw that Asami was only a few feet away from where he was. He didn’t want to get caught yet. At least, not until after he learn more from Nojima about the conflict between Asami and Takamura seven years ago.

Not wanting to waste any more precious time hesitating, he hung up and slipped into the private bathroom to his right. He was about to close the door, but decided against it, better to let it appear unpreoccupied. 

\----

Asami quirked an eyebrow when Akihito suddenly disconnected the call. Stopping before Nojima’s room, he turned to face Kirishima who was walking behind him. 

“Are you sure he didn’t leave the hospital?”

“Yes, Asami-sama, Takaba should still be in the building. I sent his picture to our men just in case.”

“And the guard who was supposed to be here?”

Kirishima stared at his boss for a moment, stumped that he didn’t know the answer. “I’ll check into it, Asami-sama,” he said before whipping out his phone to track down the missing guard. 

Asami left his assistant outside and entered the room by himself, but something made him stop, the familiar scent of fruity shampoo reminded him of Akihito, faint, but he could recognize it anywhere. Akihito must have been here not too long ago. 

On the other side of the door, Akihito heard Asami stepped into the room after talking with someone outside. He cringed a little when Asami stopped right outside the bathroom’s door. His heart was beating faster for some reason, and he didn’t know why. Wondering if Asami actually had a sixth sense he wasn’t aware of, he inched away from the door cautiously. 

Meanwhile, Nojima observed the whole thing with amusement. The cat and mouse game never seemed to cease with these two, although he didn’t expect Akihito to hide in the bathroom as a last resort. He wondered if he should tell Asami before or after their conversation. 

“Asami-san, I wasn’t expecting you to pay me a visit in person like this.” Nojima attempted to distract the crime boss to give the photographer a helping hand.

Asami turned his attention to Nojima. “It’s the least I could do since you did save Akihito’s life.” 

Nojima snickered at the comment. “Not so much saving if I was shot before he could escape.”

“Well, you gave Kirishima enough time to handle the situation, so I’m grateful, nonetheless.” Asami reached for a Dunhill out of habit, but stopped himself when he remembered that he was in a hospital.

“I could guess the reason why you’re here, Asami-san. Let’s not dance around the subject. I’m too old for games.”

Asami approached the bed and studied Nojima curiously and then the EKG heart rate monitor. The numbers were steady; he was impressed. “And what would my reason be?”

“The truth. I seem to be having a lot of guests dropping by for the same reason today.”

“I’ve always liked your bluntness, detective. You rarely hide what you’re thinking…except when you’re protecting someone.” 

Nojima stared at Asami thoughtfully, debating over something in his head. “If you’re talking about Kichirou, I never intended to hide his meeting with Takaba from you. I only waited because I wanted to talk to him first before informing you. I’m not afraid to admit that it was my mistake for not telling you sooner.”

Asami tucked one hand in his pocket and quietly walked over to the window. He was in no hurry to respond. He knew that Takamura had a son, but the boy was sent out of the country before Takamura’s incarceration five years ago, and had not returned to Japan since then, not until recently anyway. On a hunch, he had requested to see a picture of the journalist who worked with Akihito two days prior to the ambush incident during the car ride to the hospital. When Kirishima pulled up the picture from Kichirou’s journalist profile on the computer, he realized that the boy was the other missing link he was looking for. The boy’s semblance to his father was uncanny, as if he was staring at a 23-year-old version of Takamura. And as the puzzle pieces finally came together, he began to comprehend the reason behind Nojima’s reluctance. 

After half a minute of tensed silence, Asami spoke again. “It isn’t the only thing you’re holding back from me…just like that one time seven years ago.” Asami returned his gaze from the window to Nojima, the glint of fierceness was noticeable in his golden orbs, but Nojima kept his own gaze steady, unwilling to back down from the challenge. 

Asami scrutinized the older man, fascinated by the other’s courage. Any high ranking politician or cop would’ve cowered in Nojima’s shoes. He considered the next question for a moment. 

“You waited at least twenty minutes before attempting to call me that night. Even when my assistant tried to contact you on multiple occasions after the first call, you failed to respond. I couldn’t help but think that it was another deliberate decision on your part.”

Still unintimidated, Nojima calmly responded to Asami’s accusation. “I don’t deny it,” the detective’s gaze unconsciously drifted over to the bathroom, “and I didn’t get a chance to explain it to Takaba before you arrived.” Nojima looked back at Asami. “When I was following him in the alleys, I thought about stopping him many times, but wavered after watching how determined he was. Limping, bleeding, and in pain, and yet still as stubborn as a bull. He’s a tough one, that kid. I have to give him that.”

Asami kept his mask of his indifference, although his lips were curved up into a faint smirk. Akihito’s optimism in the face of defeat was often awe-inspiring, and it was for the very same trait that he was so attracted to the photographer, but he could sympathize with Nojima. Akihito’s resolute stubbornness was oftentimes too reckless for his own self-preservation. 

“Thinking back, maybe I should have stopped him as soon as I realized who his target was.”

“What made you change your mind? You waited long enough until after he took the pictures.” Asami moved away from the window to close the distance between him and Nojima.

But Nojima was already lost in thoughts, his eyes focused on the crumpled patterns of the sheet covering his body. “Maybe I just wanted to see him succeed after working so hard to get to his goal. He reminded me of my late daughter. His stubbornness is just as potent as hers.” 

Asami narrowed his eyes. It was subtle, but the shift from defensiveness to resignation in the man’s tone of voice was clear. The detective appeared as if he was addressing someone else in the room. 

“I knew that something was off because the place was too quiet, but didn’t expect that you were going to ambush Fujita and his men that night. Takaba’s life wouldn’t have been in endangered if I had contacted you sooner. For that, I failed to keep my promise, and I will take full responsibility.”

Satisfied with Nojima’s answer, Asami softened his gaze, though his expression remained unreadable. “No need to feel alarmed, detective. I’m not here to persecute you, although I’m disappointed that you abused my trust for personal reasons.” 

Asami didn’t like being lied to, but he believed that Nojima was telling him the truth. Despite his mistake, the detective had kept his word and protected Akihito far beyond his expectation.   
“You and I both know that Akihito chooses to do whatever he sets his mind to. It would be unfair for me to blame you for his carelessness.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. “Excuse me, Asami-sama,” Kirishima made his presence known. He had been standing at the entrance, waiting for right opportunity. “One of our men reported that someone who looked like Takaba tried to leave the hospital a while ago. They have the boy in their custody and waiting on order, sir.”

Asami nodded to his assistant before turning back to Nojima. “You should rest. We’ll continue this conversation when you are well again.”

He turned to leave, but stopped for a moment to add, “I prefer to give credit where credit is due. I’ll consider your debt to me repaid.”

The detective opted for silence and only offered his quiet acknowledgment as Asami walked away. 

Asami was about to step out into the hallway when Akihito’s familiar scent caused him to stop in the same spot as before. Nojima confirmed that he was talking to Akihito before his arrival, and it wasn’t unusual if Akihito’s scent had lingered, but a great deal of time had passed since then. He eyed the bathroom door suspiciously. 

Still hidden in the darkness of the bathroom, Akihito froze when Asami’s footsteps stopped. He had been listening intently, or more like eavesdropping on the conversation and unknowingly moved closer to the door without thinking. 

Asami took one step forward, and Akihito flinched, feeling as though Asami’s gaze could burn a hole through the one-inch thick wooden door. Asami’s musky scent mixed with the smell of tobacco and cologne seeped through the small crack of the door. He swallowed dryly. A part of him suddenly regretted not closing the damn thing in the first place.

Akihito continued to wait, but there was no response from the other side. Only uncertain silence. His heart thumped harder within his chest. He held his breath and slowly retreated deeper into the confined space until his back hit the shower door. 

At least another minute passed before he began to wonder if he was just paranoid for thinking Asami was on the other side. But to his shock and horror, Asami slowly pushed the door open, the low creak sending his nerves toward a certain feeling of impending doom. Light from the hallway flooded into the bathroom, and he squinted in reflex.

Feeling like a cornered cat, he could only manage a nervous laugh as golden orbs scrutinized his hazel ones. “Asami.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: (my note: v1)
> 
> \- Note: Each conversation still has its own individual hidden layer (to be revealed in later chapters).  
> \- Moral of story: You can’t hide anything from Asami. Ever. XD (jk)  
> \- Updated the character guide. [On my profile or master fic list]. Only two names left to be revealed. Yukio's name is sort of derived from a combination of his parents' names.  
> \- I’d love to hear your thoughts, specifically for this chapter. Thanks! :) 
> 
> And Thank you to all those who left me comments/reviews/ and kudos. They are immensely encouraging for a new writer like me. *hugs and gives candies* XD 
> 
> Special Thank You corner for AO3 commenters: tunnelOFdawn, helloexohello, mawaflowa, Ashida, Amelita, Fanfic3112, c0c0ly, Lusia, Rekishichizu, naomizuki, Galaxiel_AXA, Allenotna, elly96, and ALL the guests who left the lovely kudos :D
> 
> Finally, last but not least, Thank you to Sunflower1343, Coritos, and lovefinder for always leaving a comment on every chapter.


	12. Dissension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Defiant Akihito + Stubborn Asami = Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 5,424  
> Disclaimer: All VF characters belong to Yamane-sensei. OCs are mine.
> 
> Beta: PrincessofTor
> 
> A/N: The fanfic gods sent me a princess to beta this fic. Thank you, princessoftor XD. I tinkered with it some more after she edited it, so any leftover error is mine. It took me forever to find time to write this, and since I haven't written anything for a while, it was a little bit harder. O.o Thank you for your patience. Also, this is one angsty chapter. Sorry about that. But I already warned you guys ages ago. You're stuck on this ride with me now. *pats your back*
> 
> * Warning: Some violence and mature language

A strong gust of wind blew past the withered leaf clinging desperately to its last anchor, a weather-beaten branch of an old plum tree. But the branch itself eventually gave way and broke from its source with a loud snap, which caught the attention of the man who had been standing at a short distance from it. He bent over to pick up the stray branch. Using his fingernail, he scratched at the branch’s dry and flaky outer layer, digging in further and further until the rotten core was visible. 

He scrutinized the dying tree. Only five years had gone by, but what a sorry state it had become, sharing the same fate as the rest of the objects in this ghastly-looking garden. Neglected. Forgotten. And for a moment, images from his past began to flood into his consciousness, but he ruthlessly blocked them. They had no place in his present. With very little effort, he snapped the branch in half and tossed the pieces into a pile of decaying leaves on the ground. 

The sound of shoes on gravel drew closer until it stopped just a few feet from where he was. He ignored the intruder. 

"Takamura-sama, Fujita-san is here. Do you want me to direct him to the garden?"

The man didn’t answer, and his subordinate didn't dare to speak any further. They were all well taught to keep their mouths shut unless spoken to.

"I'll be in the tea house," he finally answered. With one last look at the garden, he added, "Burn the tree."

\-----------------------

The yakuza boss followed the gray and white gravel path that led him to the place where he had first met her. Half-hidden among the overgrown flora was a small, traditional tea house built when he bought the temple ten years ago. Unlike the main building and garden, the tea house was the only place well-kept. His men had taken care of it per his request. The rest of the temple grounds didn't concern him; she cared more about them than he did.

Sliding the shoji door open, he peered inside to see that everything was exactly the same as he had left them. It was here that he contemplated the cause of her death after burying her cold, lifeless body. And it was also here that he swore to put a bullet through the head of Izumi-gumi on her death anniversary. Unfinished business had led him here once again, and he would see it to the end even if it killed him. 

A tapping on the door interrupted his thoughts. He settled into one of the black zabutons. "Come in."

Fujita, his second-in-command, entered the small space followed by another underling carrying a tray with tea pot and cups. Fujita knelt on a zabuton across from Takamura as the other underling placed the tray in front of him before returning to his duties.

The yakuza poured himself a cup of tea. 

"Takamura-sama, let me deal with Asami. The others are getting restless," Fujita said with clenched fists, "That scumbag killed too many of our men. If you let me, I will--“

Takamura gestured for the other to stop. Without answering, he reached for a bottle of pills from his pocket and produced two white capsules. Fujita watched him with a mix of fear and frustration. 

"Boss?"

"I'll deal with Asami," was all the yakuza said before swallowing the capsules along with some tea. 

Although Fujita’s face was strained with contained irritation, unable to hide his dissatisfaction with his boss’ nonchalant reply, he didn't dare voice his protest. Takamura poured some tea into a different cup. 

"You shot Nojima. I don't remember giving you that order."

Fujita tensed instinctively after realizing where this might be headed. He served the man long enough to recognize the edge of danger in the yakuza boss' tone of voice. "I didn't have a choice, Boss. He was helping that little punk, and if it wasn’t for him, we would’ve gotten Asami’s pet by now and my men wouldn't have had to die in vain."

Takamura watched his subordinate with an unreadable expression. Asami was his enemy, but also a cunning and cautious man. Although he had not expected a retaliation in the form of an ambush, it was a gesture and Asami’s answer to his invitation to war. Fujita failed to understand that Asami was more than capable of procuring information through other means. He greatly underestimated their enemy and paid a heavy price, the loss of his two lieutenants. 

"All I wanted was to teach him a lesson for interfering with our business," Fujita added, desperate to strengthen his excuse.

“Have some tea,” the yakuza said as he offered the cup he poured earlier, “I insist.” 

Fujita looked at his boss with uncertainty. The man's cold, gray eyes betrayed his kind offer, and the boss knew that he hated tea. He held out both hands to accept the cup because it was an offer he couldn't refuse. But Takamura lifted the cup higher and began to slowly pour its content into the other's outstretched hands. The scalding liquid seeped through the delicate flesh in between his fingers and dripped onto the tatami mat. Fujita grunted in pain, but didn't dare to withdraw his hands.

“Have another." The yakuza boss poured a second cup in the same manner, all the while, maintaining an apathetic attitude as he watched his subordinate's struggle. Every muscle in Fujita's arms screamed for him to do everything, but subject himself to the torture. The skin on his hands was now raw, displaying an angry red, the sign of nerve damage from exposure to extreme heat.

After the third cup, Takamura finally stopped, and despite his shaking hands, Fujita thanked his boss for the tea. 

"My orders are absolute. Don't disappoint me again."

Fujita bowed. "Thank you for giving me a second chance, Takamura-sama." 

Meanwhile, unknown to the occupants inside the tea house, a young man in his mid-twenties stood outside, waiting for the opportune moment to interrupt. He had heard everything, but chose not to interfere as it wasn't his place to comment on a superior's method of punishment. Digging into his suit pants pockets, he found the dark chocolate bar he always carried with him for these situations. He popped a piece in his mouth, savoring the bitter taste before knocking on the door.

"Come in."

Fujita looked over to see who it was as he had not expected the boss to meet anyone else but him. “Tetsuya?” Fujita said with shock evident in his voice. "Why..."

The man named as Tetsuya ignored the other and bowed to his boss before making himself comfortable on a zabuton. Sitting side by side, their differences were like night and day. Tetsuya was milder in appearance as his fair complexion wasn't marred with scars or tattoos like Fujita. Save for the crimson short hair he was sporting, which stuck out like a sore thumb, he looked nothing like a high ranking member of a Yakuza family. 

Tetsuya stole a quick glimpse of the blisters on Fujita's hands before addressing his boss. "Takamura-sama, I've done everything you asked me to."

"You seemed upset, Tetsuya." Takamura took a sip of his tea. 

"No, I'm just a little sad that you didn't tell me about your release until now, but I'm in no position to question your motive."

The yakuza boss watched the younger man's blunt attitude in quiet amusement. Following in his footsteps, Tetsuya was the next senior adviser in charge of handling the group's political and financial affairs. Promoted to the position when he was only 21, Tetsuya was an adept tactician, despite his _unique_ personality.

Tetsuya continued, "Some of the junior executive members who are loyal to the previous boss are upset with your upcoming appointment. They're questioning your claim to the leadership, especially after five years of absence."

"Then they should realize that the previous boss was nothing but a useless puppet. Maybe if I have a gun pointed at the back of their skulls, they could see things a little clearer," Fujita interjected.

"And how do you plan on doing that? A hostile takeover of the group? Would you like to kill the rest of our members too?" Tetsuya quipped.

"What do you know? You haven't shed a single drop of blood for this clan, so don't act all high-and-mighty. I have had enough of your sissy bullshit. Don't tempt me."

Takamura regarded the bickering before him with disinterest. If they could agree on anything, it was that they openly hated each other, but at the same time, both served as a power check in case one of them had any idea of betraying him. 

Turning back to his boss, Tetsuya casually ignored Fujita as if he was just some bug on the wall. "Takamura-sama, I wouldn't put it past Asami to try and interfere with our meeting with the other clans."

"The men you sent today did well in distracting Asami. His men didn't show up during my release."

 

Tetsuya looked at his boss wearily. The man rarely complimented anyone. Did he screw up somewhere along the way? At 8 am in the morning, he received a phone call straight from the man himself to send over a few of their political _allies_ , more accurately, clients of Asami who were secretly indebted to Matsuda-gumi. The distraction tactic worked, but he didn't know that the boss would be released much earlier than expected. The man had kept him at arms' length in these matters until the last possible moment, always careful that none of his subordinates knew more information than the others. In fact, he had only learned about their deal with Murata just two weeks ago. 

Next to him, Fujita offered a mocking laugh. "That scumbag wouldn't dare to do anything stupid in front of the police even if he knew. If he thinks he can ambush me a second time, I'll pull the trigger on his little bitch before he can even blink."

''Asami is a smart man. He'll figure it out sooner or later," Tetsuya fired back. "The higher body count on our side is a testament to that. And maybe you should consider using that tiny pea-sized brain of yours to think before you speak. Your blatant incompetence did nothing but put Takamura-sama in an unfavorable position with the group."

Fujita's temper flared because that was the last insult he could withstand from some 26-year-old kid who probably never held a gun in his life. Just because the punk could handle a few of the group's affairs, he thought he could walk all over him. Fujita reached out to grab Tetsuya's shirt collar and yanked him closer until their faces were inches apart. 

"I'll kill you right here if you make one more stupid comment. Don't tempt me, you little punk," Fujita spoke in a low growl. 

"Enough," Takamura finally intervened when the two looked like they were about to rip each other's throat out. "Tetsuya, don't provoke him any further."

Fujita reluctantly let go of Tetsuya who fixed his shirt as if nothing had happened. "I'm sorry, Takamura-sama. I'm just frustrated that I was kept out of the loop for so long. If you had given me the chance, we wouldn't have lost so many of our men."

"I only need you to worry about the group's finances and the government. Fujita can take care of everything else in my stead."

There was a moment of silence as Tetsuya debated over the next subject. It'd be unwise to antagonize the boss in his current state. Despite his calm exterior, Takamura's temper was much worse than Fujita's and his taste for punishment was a reflection of that. But he also didn't want to come here for nothing. He made a promise to someone, and he intended to keep it.

"Takamura-sama, you allowed me to leak the meeting location to Kichirou because you knew that he would contact Asami's lover, didn't you?"

The Yakuza boss watched his subordinate with quiet indifference, but his eyes dared for the other to continue.

"At the time, I didn't understand why you didn't stop me, but now, after knowing, I couldn't help but feel that I've betrayed him. He came to see me not too long ago, upset because he thought that his own father had used him to set a trap for someone else."

"He came to you for information out of his own volition. I don't control who he sees or doesn't see."

"He wants to talk to you," Tetsuya added.

"That's unnecessary. If you don't have anything else to report, you may leave."

"Takamura-sama--"

The yakuza boss shot his subordinate a chillingly cold glare, warning the other not to take the subject any further. And after several more seconds of tensed silence, Tetsuya was sure that he would never be able to convince the man otherwise. The two subordinates took their leave shortly after.

After leaving the temple ground, Fujita walked over to Tetsuya to deliver what he had been holding back the entire time. "You always mocked me in front of Takamura-sama, but I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to say those things in front of him. I swear I won't hesitate when he orders me to slit your throat," Fujita said with a manic grin on his face. "I'll enjoy every moment of it."

But Tetsuya was undaunted even if he knew that Fujita wasn't the type to make empty threats. He shouted after the other man, "We should go out for ice cream sometime. Maybe I can recommend a good mental health doctor for you while we're at it." 

Once Fujita's car was out of sight, Tetsuya heaved a heavy sigh, relieved that he didn't have to continue wearing the mask of sarcasm anymore. Meeting with Takamura in person always made him feel as if he was being summoned to a trial...with a potential death penalty on the table. Popping another small piece of bitter chocolate into his mouth, he wondered if the boss would contact him any time soon, or should he stay this way, not knowing when the bloodbath would take place. The situation had taken a turn for the worst, and he was growing anxious with every unexpected development. 

\--------------------------------------------

Akihito checked his digital watch for the umpteenth time, the gray pixels on its tiny screen ticked ever so slowly, as if time had slowed down considerably whenever he was with Asami. He resumed what he had been doing for the last thirty minutes, which was staring out the car's tinted window. Surprisingly, he didn't know he had it in him to practice patience when it came to Asami, and the bastard always mocked him for it, but this time, as he told himself, he wouldn't let Asami get his way. 

Shifting his attention to the outside world once more, he focused on the blurred outlines of cars as they zoomed past in the opposite direction. The August sun was just beginning to set, and its orange glow formed a radiant backdrop against the dark silhouettes of tall buildings, the prelude to Shinjuku's famous night life. People of both worlds would come out to play and mingle during these hours. The enticing sweet words of a host or hostess, the false promise of a lucky break in pachinko parlors, and even the temporary bliss of a drunken stupor all drew honest wage earners to these nighttime establishments like moths to a flame. But behind the bright light, neon signs, and flashy LED screens lay a vast network of corruption, businesses with pseudo legitimacy and the people that controlled them.

It was the norm that publicly prominent men would shake hands with underworld players, sealing secret deals behind closed doors in the VIP section of an elite club somewhere. And deals made between men with such agendas always gave him the highest kick of an adrenaline rush. If only he could see the look on their faces when they discovered photos of themselves caught in the act on the front pages of every major newspaper. 

But the irony of his situation suddenly dawned on him. He should be out there, free to chase a lead somewhere, finding purpose and pride in working and supporting himself. Not sitting here like some captured pet being chauffeured back to his fancy cage. If a divine being did exist, he surely liked to jest because sitting next to him was none other than Asami Ryuichi, a man whose involvement with the underworld seemed to extend far beyond his imagination. An elite and powerful player in this sleepless city.

The deep voice drew his attention back to the presence next to him. He looked over at Asami who was still preoccupied with a phone call _as usual_ , conveniently ignoring him like he was just there for the ride. The man barely said anything to him since he last uttered the other's name. Perhaps it was more unusual that Asami simply waited for him to leave the safety of the bathroom and followed closely behind in every step. Midway to the car, he thought about making a run for it, but fought off the idea as this was probably his only chance to confront Asami.

Though for some reason, he couldn't find the right words, and the urges died just as soon as they came up. Could it be that Asami's silence had set off his unease? He had expected some show of disappointment or even a condescending comment or two, which he was fully prepared to throw back at Asami, but none was given. Maybe this was Asami's way of punishing him. He had no idea. Not that he was feeling guilty for eavesdropping, no, but he was sure as hell not giving in to the silent treatment if it meant Asami would win. 

He continued to watch Asami quietly, completely in denial of his own frustration until Asami turned his head a little, as if sensing he was being watched, and their eyes met. Asami held his gaze as he continued to speak to his _important_ client on the phone, his expression, the normal facade of indifference, but Akihito watched him long enough to notice the hint of irritation in those golden orbs. He wanted to win their little staring battle, he really did, but something was bothering Asami. It was a fact. Asami wasn't smoking either which only made his unease worse. This wouldn't end well for him. Asami was holding back something, and he wouldn't like it.

 _Goddammit_. He'd rather deal with the usual insults than this. 

Scratching a not-so-itchy spot on the back of his head, he grumbled something incoherent and fixed his gaze outside once more, letting his mind wander to anything else, but Asami. 

On the window's glass surface, a small, mysterious glob of something sat in the corner, barely visible to the naked eye. He wondered what it was. Asami usually kept his possessions clean and orderly; the man was like a neat freak. Reaching out to investigate, he stopped midway and withdrew his hand. The pair of eyes was still watching him. Asami would just make fun of him for being so easily distracted by some stupid smudge. The man had a way of making him feel... _small_ , openly fascinated with his behavior, like an adult who patronized a child's struggle to understand the world. 

Ten minutes later and the car arrived at the front entrance of Asami's building. He practically jumped out of the car before Suoh and Kirishima could reach the door in time and slammed it shut, albeit rather loudly. As soon as his feet reached solid ground, the thought of escaping popped up again, but the sting in his knee convinced him otherwise. He breathed in deeply, as if he had been denied of proper air for a long time. 

Whatever Asami was doing, it was working. There. He admitted it. But two could play this game.

Feelingly slightly vindictive, he walked briskly over to the elevator and ignored the concierge's greeting. If he could beat the others to it, he would enjoy watching Asami's face as the elevator doors shut on him. But alas, things would never go his way because Asami and his henchmen were right behind him. 

The elevator trip, however, was even more awkward than the one in the car. The suffocating silence was beginning to grate his nerves. He even considered banging his head against the back wall to escape it, but thought better of it. So he focused intently on Asami's broad back instead. The fluorescent lighting within the elevator accentuated Asami's dark suit fabric in great detail, revealing small wrinkle. The slight tension in Asami's shoulders betrayed his normally cool composure.

Asami was the first to walk out once they reached the top floor, but Kirishima and Suoh let him past before following. It was a rather strange gesture. Something was up. Maybe Asami had ordered both of his best men to guard duty this time, seeing as how his other men were too incompetent. He convinced himself that must be the case.

But something told him otherwise when Suoh and Kirishima didn't enter the penthouse, and the heavy tension pervaded the air that surrounded them just like how it was in the car. _Well, shit_. Suddenly feeling as if he had been led like a lamb to the slaughter, he looked over to Asami with a confused expression, panic growing from within.

Asami didn't pay Akihito any attention and simply headed for the living room. Akihito followed him half-heartedly, vacillating between confronting the man and retreating to his room to think of a better plan. Something was wrong, Akihito was sure of it. If it was a normal backlash to his disobedience, he could deal with it, but Asami's unusual show of restraint reminded him too much of the time they had talked after the night of the stakeout incidence.

Asami dropped his leather briefcase on the coffee table, took off his jacket, and settled on the sofa as if the thick unpleasant cloud above them was nonexistent. Asami procured something from his jacket and threw it on the table before lighting a cigarette.

 _'Oh, now you're smoking.'_ Akihito thought as he narrowed his eyes on the object. It was just a white envelope, seemingly harmless in appearance, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't like its contents very much. It was always a do-or-die thing with Asami. So he remained at a distance, not that Asami would hurt him, but the man had a nasty habit of punishing him in ways he'd rather not think about at the moment.

A few minutes of absolutely nothing passed. Not a single word was spoken. 

_Bastard._

Growing impatient, Akihito bit the bullet and went straight to the subject. "My memory card, you have it, don't you? Give it back to me." 

"Are you done with your little tantrum?"

Akihito wanted to punch the bastard, but that would only further reduce his chance of getting the memory card back. "Is this your thing now? Treating me like a child because I asked for something that actually belongs to me? You won't tell me anything and now this?"

"The little stunt you pulled today wasn't enough proof of that? Tell me, Akihito, why should I trust that you won't just hand yourself over to the enemy like you're doing now?"

"They're your enemies, not mine. You told me to stay out of it, but disclosed nothing about this Takamura guy or why I should be afraid of him."

Asami stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. He fixed an intimidating gaze on the photographer. "Don't be naive, Akihito. The job you're so proud of and the world it belongs to is filled with my enemies. However, my business with Takamura is none of your concern, so stop acting like a brat and do as you're told."

"So these were the words you meant to say to me that night. What made you hold back? Pity? Because you thought I blamed myself for getting someone else hurt? Was that why you told me about Matsuda-gumi and their illegal business?" Akihito said bitterly, his hands now curled into fists at his sides. "You thought that feeding me some information would be enough to scare me away. How pathetic I must have looked for believing for a moment that you took me seriously." 

"No, I told you about Matsuda-gumi because I wanted to get it through your thick head that these men are dangerous, far more than the typical gang you're used to. Although I would've chained you to the wall if I knew you'd be stupid enough to walk into enemy territory."

_'Asami, just how far do you have to go to undermine my work?'_

Akihito bit his lower lips hard enough to draw blood. He knew about the danger that entailed this type of work, but he wasn't suffering from a delusion of grandeur either. He didn't think he was a hero or even a vigilante, out to rid the world of all its crimes and corruptions. As much as he wanted to cuss out the bastard's arrogant assumptions, he was already at his wits' end. The promise he secretly made to Yukio that day--to return Yukio's parents' honor, he intended to keep or at least try his best before giving up. 

Using sheer willpower to clamp down on his anger, Akihito spoke in the most controlled tone he could muster, "Those pictures, I need them." He had only begged Asami once before. It was the time when Fei Long was holding his friends hostage, and Asami mocked him for it. But he had already gone too far to back down now. "Please give them back to me. There's someone I want to help with those pictures, and they're my only chance."

"You can't help him," Asami answered in his usual matter-of-fact tone of voice, but Akihito looked up at him in shock. 

"You--you knew about Yukio?"

"There's nothing that you can hide from me that I won't find out eventually." Asami approached the photographer. Using a thumb, he wiped away the small droplet of blood on Akihito's lip, but Akihito pushed his hand away.

"Then you should understand the reason why I want that memory card. Do you think it's funny to lead me around in a circle like this?" _'How much more do you want me to beg you?'_

Asami turned to retrieve the white envelope from earlier, and Akihito suddenly wondered if it contained pictures--his pictures. Now that he thought about it, he never even got a chance to look at them as he was too busy running for his life at the time. 

"You're leaving Japan in two days," Asami dictated as he handed Akihito the envelope. 

But Akihito could only stare at it in disbelief, convincing himself that he must've misheard the man somehow. "Wh-What? What do you mean I'm leaving?" He wanted to be told otherwise, that he was wrong, that he was hearing things, but the envelope's content only confirmed one of his worst fears. Inside the envelope was a first class plane ticket to a city whose name he couldn't even recognize somewhere in Australia. 

"Is this your answer?" The question slipped from Akihito's lips. When the reality of what was really happening finally dawned on him, his heart sank. The weight of the piece of paper was heavier by tenfold. Everything was beginning to make sense now. All the dodging, the show of restraint, and the lack of a punishment were all for this reason. So that he could stay quietly in his little cage until he was ready to be shipped away to some foreign land for God knows how long. It had always been Asami's plan from the beginning.

_'You're a very cruel man, Asami.'_

As tears of anger began to cloud his vision, he struggled to read the bold print on the ticket over and over again. But the thought of being forced against his will to leave his friends, family, and life behind invoked a deep-seated frustration that never left him since the Hong Kong incident. Why do people like to do whatever they wanted with his life as if he was only an invisible spectator coming along for the ride? No, not like this. Not again. He would fight to the bitter end.

He hastily wiped away the tears and steeled himself. "No," he paused and their eyes met, "I don't want to leave. I won't."

Asami saw the fierce and defiant will burning in those hazel orbs, but he couldn't afford getting Akihito caught in the crossfire in his feud with Takamura. "That's no longer an option. Keeping you here will only interfere with my plans."

"You can think whatever you want, but I'm not a piece of property. I have my own life, a job, and people I care about here. I can't just drop everything and leave because you think some sociopath is out to get me, who by the way, is still a freaking mystery because you refused to tell me anything." Akihito looked at the ticket one last time before crumpling it up and throwing it back at Asami. It bounced off Asami's chest and landed near his feet. 

"I also won't subject myself to living like this--living in fear, not knowing when that bastard will try to hurt my friends too.

Asami took a step forward, his expression a shade darker than before, but Akihito had made up his mind to fight, so he held his ground. 

"Don't test my patience, Akihito." Asami's voice was low and dangerous.

"If I'm just a hindrance, then kick me out. I came here of my own choice, so I'll leave the same way," Akihito said before turning to leave, half expecting that Asami would stop him. However, Asami didn't even lift a finger, let alone stop him. 

Without bothering to grab some extra clothes, money, or any of his belongings, he made his way to the penthouse door. But upon opening it, he found Kirishima and Suoh standing right outside, blocking any chance of escape. He stood there dazed for a moment because he had forgotten about them. Asami really did plan everything. 

A hand grabbed him from behind and he instinctively flinched. "Let go of me, you bastard!" He tried to yank his wrist away, but that only caused Asami to tighten his grip. And much to his dismay, he was pinned against the genkan's wall before he could protest any further.

"Calm down, Akihito."

"You're a goddamn bully, that's what you are!" Akihito spat back. But all his shouting and struggling were to no avail. Both of Asami's hands firmly gripped Akihito's shoulders, holding him in place, and no matter how much he pushed agaisnt the strong chest, the bastard wouldn't budge.

 _'Why must I feel so helpless against this man?'_

Tears began to well up in his eyes again, threatening to flow, and he was afraid he could no longer hold them back. Trapped. Powerless to change the situation, Akihito knew he was fighting a tough opponent. He needed to get out. Somewhere. Anywhere, but here.

Asami simply waited until Akihito regained some of his composure again. He admitted that for a split second, he lost the rein on his temper when Akihito threw the ticket at him. He wanted to teach the boy a lesson and break that stubborn will. But after seeing Akihito...in this state, finally breaking down after putting up a tough front, his heart had softened considerably. Loosening his grip on the now slumped shoulders, he lifted the boy's face to see the hurt behind those hazel orbs. 

But Akihito diverted his gaze, feeling too mentally and physically exhausted to fight the other man. He dragged himself to his bedroom, and Asami didn't stop him, but didn't follow him either. 

"Asami-sama," Kirishima spoke up when his boss seemed lost in thought. He and Suoh had been quietly watching on the sideline, preferring not to interfere with the man's private affair.

Asami sighed. "Print another ticket. He destroyed the first one."

"I understand. Do you want me to get the car?"

Asami thought about how he had been ignoring Akihito for the last couple of days. "No, I'll work from here. Cancel the rest of my meetings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> \- Updated the Character Guide. I only have one name left to add, I promise lol.  
> \- The main antagonist's POV was interesting to write. I was stuck for a while trying to decide if I wanted to reveal a key detail, but it felt right post-writing it.  
> \- Note: All the POVs in between chapters 8 and 11 are supposed to show two sides of the same coin (a slow burn to Asami and Akihito’s argument). Humans are complicated creatures. Our words don't always reflect what we truly feel, and I wanted to convey that through the two main characters. Akihito is a little more honest with his frustration than Asami, so his POV should identify more with the reader.  
> \- That slow burn though


End file.
